Boiling Points May Differ
by A Firm Refusal of Organics
Summary: Michael claimed it was a miracle worked by God's system. Tiamat argued that it was an outside force of fate. Percy wasn't sure which he believed more, but for better or for worse, he was in their reality now. It really was just a matter of perspective...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

New life being knelled, whether from far above or deep below, often changes everything. Sometimes it comes with a warning, sometimes not; both the change and the new life.

-_Quote attributed to Michael, Overseer of Heaven_

* * *

God's death heralded the end of an era. Civilizations would fall, millions of believers would be killed, and the balance of power between every world religion would be irrevocably altered.

At least, that's what Michael thought would happen.

God had created Michael for a particular reason: to protect the chosen people. As an archangel, that was Michael's most important duty. He knew this much.

Over time, after cataclysms struck and the world changed, God tasked Michael again, this time to protect all of humanity, creating more angels to assist with such a monumental request. And despite Michael and the angels under his command doing their best to keep evil at bay, surely, all of their success was only possible due to God's guidance.

So when God had died one thousand years ago, many angels, Michael and the other seraphs included, feared that they were soon to witness the death of their labors. On top of that, they feared for themselves, for Heaven, and for the mortal souls who had found peace in paradise.

Thankfully, the system God had left behind proved to be far more robust than Michael figured initially. Not only had Heaven remained untouched by violence from her natural enemies, but there was also a substantial increase in believers of the holy scripture over the centuries following God's death.

Michael stood in the uppermost level of Heaven, wondering once more at the system his father had created.

The highest level, Seventh Heaven, was nothing like the other levels. There were no buildings. There was no furniture. There was nothing but darkness and light, an inky black backdrop cut into pieces by rows upon rows upon columns of floating white text.

Information. The white words written in the original angelic language was merely that: information. Names, places, events, whispers, prayers. Trillions upon trillions of words, centuries worth of knowledge, all at his fingertips.

This was about as close to omniscient as anybody could come, Michael thought.

God had made a system to outlast even himself. He had made a system simple enough for any of his angels to use. If not Michael, then another could take his place. Any of the other seraphs would be more than capable of keeping watch over the system.

Perhaps the biggest boon carried by the system was that miracles could still be performed. While they could not be realized as frequently as when God had been alive, miracles were still very much a staple of Heaven's metaphysical system. And though the system wasn't without its problems, the world was currently enjoying a much-deserved era of peace after the global conflicts of the 20th century.

_Yes, this is fine. _Michael contented himself in knowing that more people were living happily than ever before. Of course, part of that came from human ingenuity. What a wonderful thing it was, too. _They have come so far. I'm sure their happiness would make you happy as well, Father. If only… _

As Michael lost himself in thought, a new prayer was recognized by the system, its letters burning with a brilliant purple light.

[[Is it ever going to stop?]]

Michael tilted his head and frowned. The prayer pulsed, writhed, blinked, and then finally turned a blinding scarlet color.

The letters grew in size. The letters screeched. The letters burned.

Soon, the only thing visible in the entirety of Seventh Heaven were those words, repeated, sprawling across the infinite room where God once ruled from, their color changing from scarlet to blue.

_What is this? _Michael winced as the screeching increased. _An error? I have never seen the system react so viciously to a prayer before. _

And as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The prayer was gone, lost in the ocean of information, drowned someway, somehow. Everything was as it should have been in Seventh Heaven. The unending darkness of its background continued to stretch for an eternity. The rows of words stretched nearly as far. Information was back in place.

ZEBEL HAS BEEN BREACHED - ZEBEL HAS BEEN BREACHED

A new message made Michael's blood run cold. The words arranged themselves neatly in front of him, forming out of pure white letters. This time it wasn't a prayer. It was a warning from the system. Zebel, the sixth level of Heaven, was where the other nine seraphs resided. Most of them were out on Earth at the moment, except for one. Only his younger sister would be in Zebel at this time.

_Gabriel! _

He threw his hand out, opening the only passage out of Seventh Heaven like a door. Around the doorway, darkness and prayers gave way to an image of Zebel's northern garden, like looking through the thinnest glass window into an entirely different world.

Michael stepped into the doorway, pushing past the familiar sensation of walking through mud when traveling out of Seventh Heaven.

"Gabriel?" Michael called out to his sister as soon as he was beyond the doorway. The northern garden was silent. He squinted at his surroundings.

Sixth Heaven, unlike Seventh Heaven, was not dark. While each level of Heaven didn't exist in the same realm as Earth and the solar system, there was still enough light to make each day indistinguishable from the last. The ceiling was fashioned to be cloud-like and bright, true for every level of Heaven except the second and seventh.

Michael took to the sky, flying above the low rise of trees in the garden, his wings stretching wide once he was high enough to look over all of Sixth Heaven. From his position, he could see both the east and west gardens, empty, as well as the dormitory compound where the seraphs lived, again empty.

Only when he turned his head to the south did he notice that the gates of Sixth Heaven had been broken.

A jagged hole highlighted the point of entry for whatever had come through.

It shouldn't have been possible, that hole. The walls surrounding Sixth Heaven had been made to withstand the assault of powerful entities such as dragons, devils, and even other gods.

Scanning the paved path leading to the center of Zebel, Michael saw movement, and relief flashed through him when he saw that it was Gabriel. He descended, landing in front of his sister, who had been waving at him from the ground.

Gabriel knelt by a young man Michael had never seen before.

"What happened?"

Gabriel shook her head softly. "I'm… not sure. I was going to visit the lower levels, but the gates shattered in front of me! I didn't even know they were supposed to do that!"

Michael smiled indulgently at Gabriel's rather airheaded observation. "They aren't _meant_ to be broken. Father made them specifically to withstand quite a bit of punishment."

She tilted her head. "Oh. I suppose that does make more sense." Her lips pursed. "But then why _did_ they break?"

"I don't—"

The boy moved, rolled away from Gabriel, and spun to his feet. All this before Michael had even seen his eyes open. It was an impressive showing.

Michael wasn't sure when, but the boy had also drawn a sword, glowing bronze and three feet long, its edge a wicked and gleaming promise. The blade followed the arc of his arms as he twisted from side to side.

Then, just then, as the boy swung around, Michael was able to see his face.

_How frightening._

And Michael saw anger. It was anger, warped and godless, seemingly twisted into a singular, blistering hatred. The intruder's expression burned with the kind of anger Michael had seen more times than he could count.

It was an all-consuming kind of anger. It was the kind of anger that could sink a person; anger so hot that it could boil anybody from the inside.

Sea-green eyes darted from Michael to Gabriel, then back again, repeating, repeating, repeating, and it lasted for only a second—two seconds. A moment of hesitation followed; one quick blink. He muttered something too soft to be heard, let go of a long breath, and began to relax his aggressive stance.

"Hi!" Gabriel stood up in one smooth move, gliding a little closer to the boy. "Are you okay? You took a pretty nasty… um… hit, I guess you would call it. I mean, it kind of downplays what actually happened, but I don't really know how else to say it." She smiled at him.

The boy's expression had lost all of its previous causticity as Gabriel spoke, settling on something ambiguous but not unkind. In fact, it was infinitely closer to _buoyant _than _hateful_, which, while preferred, also felt oddly out of place.

Michael studied him, taking in the frayed and shredded clothing, the sea-green eyes that had softened around their edges, and the sword that still separated him from the rest of Zebel.

_Genuinely frightening, _Michael thought. Obviously, the boy had just come from some kind of battle. Despite that, he was able to steady himself when he should have been under a great deal of duress, wiping away most traces of distrust and hostility in the span of two breaths. The only thing that told Michael the boy didn't trust either him or Gabriel was the waiting sword.

"Where… am I?" The young man completely ignored Gabriel's initial attempt to speak with him. "This isn't…"

Michael cleared his throat. "You're currently in Heaven. The sixth level of Heaven to be exact."

"Sixth level of Heaven…" The young man allowed his attention to roam for a brief moment. "Really? That's weird. It's my first time ending up here after dying."

"It certainly is odd," Michael agreed. "I am Michael, archangel of Heaven."

"I'm Gabriel, and _you_"—she pointed at the boy—"are quite rude."

"Huh?" He looked at the broken walls behind him. "Oh, yeah, uh, sorry about that."

Gabriel shook her head dramatically. "Not that! I mean, you just ignored me when I asked if you were okay. That's pretty rude. I wanted to make sure you hadn't broken anything."

The boy's mouth curled into a placid, lazy smile. "You mean except for the walls, right?"

Gabriel pouted. "Yes, except for the walls."

He bobbed his head a few times, rotating his free arm while the other carried on with its duty of holding up the bronze sword. "Well, you'll be glad to know that I feel just fine. I'm a bit sturdier than the average human. And besides, that wall wasn't so tough."

"That's great… um…" Gabriel tilted her head. "What was your name again?"

With one hand raised, he said, "Percy. Nice to meet you both, I guess."

"Likewise," Michael nodded.

"Same, same," Gabriel gushed.

They didn't move for a few seconds. Percy's quaint smile remained, friendly as could be given the situation. In contrast, his sword also stayed in its defensive position, crossed before his chest, angled in such a way that even a small motion would protect most of his vital organs if they were targeted. His legs were appropriately spaced, left further forward than right, with more weight given to the latter if the bent knee were any sign.

_Danger, _Michael's intuition kept saying. _Danger. _

Percy's chosen stance screamed of no attack being met without retaliation. The writing was there in the way he watched them. Beneath the warmth, there was shrewdness. Backing that shrewdness was a willingness to act.

"Well," Michael put his hands together in front of him, "with introductions out of the way, may I ask you a few more questions?"

"Questions? Yeah, I'm sure you have a lot of those." Percy glanced at the hole behind him again. He took his eyes off them for less than a second. His lazy smile faltered. "Okay. I don't have a problem answering a few things. Though, maybe we can have our interrogation over tea or coffee or something?"

"That sounds like a good idea, though I wouldn't call it an interrogation by any means."

"Oh, oh!" Gabriel raised her hand. "I'll go get the tea ready for us. Michael, can I?"

Michael's face split in a fond smile. His sister was excitable about the strangest things. "If you wouldn't mind."

She shook her head. "Nope. I'll be right back, you two." With that, she quickly made her retreat into the dormitories of Zebel, her long blond hair fluttering as she jogged away.

Turning back to their guest, Michael beckoned him forward. "Let's go relax in the eastern garden while Gabriel prepares the tea for us. I'm sure you'd like to sit down for a while, given how you arrived here."

Percy carefully lowered his sword, eyes lingering on Michael's wings for a few seconds. "You just read my mind. What about the…" He jerked his head behind him.

"None may enter Sixth Heaven without permission from us seraphs. While the walls will need to be repaired, they can wait." Michael brought a hand to his chin. "Though maybe a stopgap wouldn't be a bad idea." Muttering a short word and letting his magic flow, Michael pointed at the hole. A barrier of dim, yellow-silver light formed at the jagged edges. It wasn't nearly as sturdy as the wall it was meant to replace, but it worked well enough for the time being.

"If I ever need a repairman, I guess I know who to call," Percy said.

"The Lamb of God was a carpenter," Michael said. "He could build great, wondrous things with his two hands. I'm not much more than a bandage."

"Hey," Percy gave a careless shrug, "bandages save lives. I'm all for it. Now let's go sit down. My legs are killing me."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

"And here we are!" Gabriel set down three small cups filled with tea, then put the pitcher in the middle of the table that Michael had chosen.

"Thank you, Gabriel." Michael smiled at his sister.

"Thanks," Percy offered. "Nice place you've got here. I should've known Heaven would look this nice."

The east garden of Zebel was themed to native plant life that grew in Asia. With the help of magic, many species of flowers, trees, mushrooms, and mosses all thrived in the east garden.

Where they sat now was one of many small clearings in the garden. Three circular metal tables had been set up for the sake of resting, the cushioned chairs helping to make sure anybody would be able to relax. Chinese wisteria surrounded them, flowering, dyeing the periphery a clean shade of purple and filling the air with its heady fragrance.

"I love these gardens," Gabriel said.

All three of them sipped their tea. Percy's other hand rested on the pommel of his sword, which he'd leaned against the table. "So, you guys had questions, right?"

"Can I go first?" Gabriel's energetic response made Michael agree. She pumped her fist in victory, then looked at Percy, brimming with curiosity. "Where did you come from? I mean, when you broke through the walls of Zebel, I was super surprised! I was like, 'Did that really just happen?' and 'How is he still breathing?' It was really shocking. I thought you were a god at first… but… um… you really aren't, so sorry for assuming~ Haha~"

"Hmm." Percy sipped his tea. "Like you said, I'm not a god."

"And you aren't a monster." Gabriel tilted her head. "Ah, it's just too confusing."

"Is it safe to assume, then, that you came from Earth?" Michael asked. "I recall you said something about dying, yet I can guarantee that you aren't dead."

A beat. "I'm still alive?" he asked.

Michael nodded cautiously. "Yes. You have a very physical body, I can assure you."

Percy looked away from the table, eyes tracing lines over the vines of wisteria that bloomed around them.

There was something painfully familiar with how he looked. Michael knew that look; he knew those poisonous feelings of exhaustion and indignation. He knew how hard it was to keep those feelings from swallowing him whole.

Silence came to the garden.

Michael and Gabriel shared a glance while Percy kept staring at the purple flowers directly across from him.

A minute passed. Sixty full seconds. In a conversation, minute-long silences were painfully obvious.

But it gave Michael a bit of time to think. During those sixty seconds, he came to understand what had happened earlier in Seventh Heaven.

Percy had been chosen by God's system to receive a miracle; his prayer had been answered.

This was merely the result.

Gabriel reached out, presumably to touch Percy's hand, but froze when his eyes snapped toward her. She withdrew her arm and stowed it in her lap. Worriedly, she asked him, "Are you all right?"

Percy covered his mouth. Slowly, he dragged the hand down, nodding as his face started to clear. "I'm all right. Yeah. I'm all right."

"From your reaction," Michael said carefully, "I assume your last battle ended poorly?"

"Last battle?" Percy looked at his clothes, then at his sword, then at his hands. "Right. Yeah. I, uh… I lost."

"Is that how you ended up here?"

"Pretty much."

Michael hummed. "So, are you from Earth? Are you human?"

"Yes to both questions. Earth, born and raised. Human, born and raised. Good times all around." He grimaced quickly. "Well, for the most part."

"Who were you battling?" Gabriel asked.

Percy's head jerked. "An old friend who isn't an old friend anymore."

A vague answer, but an answer nonetheless. Michael chose to move on. "Earlier, you mentioned that this was the first time arriving in Heaven after dying. I can't help but wonder what you meant by that."

"I meant exactly what I said. This is my first time visiting Heaven. It's… bright."

"About you dying?" Michael prodded.

"Would you believe me if I said it was a slip of the lip?" Percy asked. When Michael only smiled, he sighed magnanimously. "Trust me, that's a can of worms we're better off not opening. Actually, it's a can of worms I'm not planning on opening anytime soon. Sorry."

Michael nodded slowly. "Is there anything you _are_ willing to tell us. Neither Gabriel nor I wish to make you uncomfortable. Clearly, whatever you may have gone through, it was unpleasant."

Percy's tongue ran over the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed amusedly. "Unpleasant is putting it mildly. I do appreciate you not pushing when I don't want to share in the first place. You really are an angel, huh?"

"Oh, Michael is the best of us!" Gabriel chirped.

"I only do as the Lord would want," Michael said.

He certainly wasn't the best of them. Gabriel was the best of them. She still held some of her innocence. She'd never been forced to do what Michael had done. And she never would, if he could help it.

"Speaking of the Capital G, is he around? He's not gonna be mad that I busted through the walls of Heaven, right?" Percy glanced skyward. "Is he listening right now? Tell him that I said sorry."

The reminder that God was dead made Michael stiffen in his chair. Despite a thousand years having passed, the sting still remained, though time had lessened its impact. Worst of all was having to keep the general populous from discovering the truth about God's death. If anybody happened to learn of His passing, Michael was in the unfortunate position of discrediting and excommunicating those individuals. In fact, there were many aspects of keeping the system in check that Michael found to be unpleasant.

"I'm sure he isn't upset." Michael finished his own tea, making sure to set the cup down gently. "And I'm sure he is glad for your apology."

"Great. As for what I'm willing to tell you, well, I guess you should know that I'm not from around these parts. See, where I'm from, God doesn't exist. Not the Capital G." Percy held his hand up to stop Gabriel when she leaned forward to ask something. "Now, there were such things as _gods_, but the Big Guy Upstairs was more of a metaphysical matter than someone like, say, Zeus or Hades. Trust me, I met Hades more than once, so I know what I'm talking about."

_Is he implying... _Michael was surprised by how easily Percy shared an improbable conclusion.

Gabriel nodded vigorously. "That's so interesting!" She clapped her hands together. "Hey, Hades is pretty creepy, right?"

Percy considered her for a moment, then grinned. "Very creepy. The guy's so oily, even Texas would be jealous of him."

"Oily? Isn't he an actual skeleton?"

"An actual skeleton? Not where I'm from. He had, like, skin… and stuff."

"Wow~" Gabriel breathed out a soft sigh. "Wherever you're from, it sounds amazing."

Percy glanced at his sword. "Not sure I'd call it amazing. Not anymore." He nodded at the wisteria. "This place is pretty neat, though."

"What makes you think so?"

"Well, it's nice to look at." Percy ran a finger over the rim of his cup. "And I've got good company here."

Michael chose that moment to interrupt. "So I take it the Greek gods are alive where you're from."

He avoided using the term that was now eating away at his mind: _alternate reality_. God had once wondered about the possibilities of there being an infinite number of sidelong timelines running parallel to each other. The more Percy spoke, the more Michael entertained the idea of this being the case here.

"They were," Percy said.

Michael made a note of the tense used but didn't comment on it.

The first time hadn't been a mistake.

Something must have happened to the gods where Percy was from, again fueling the idea of a separate reality.

_Of course, the question remains,_ Michael watched as his sister started another conversation with Percy, _how much can I possibly believe? Father would have remained cautious. Heaven's safety is a priority. But the system… must have heard this boy's prayer. This is his miracle, isn't it? What choice do I have, then, except to believe him? _

The fact that Heaven's system for maintaining an evil-free environment hadn't yet activated to evict Percy was a testament. Humans—and Michael didn't mean to sound cynical—were a sinful people. They had been for thousands of years, and they would remain for thousands of years to come. It was part of their nature. Original sin could never be overcome.

For that reason, humans were rarely allowed into Heaven before they died and received their halo, should they have lived a life worthy of paradise.

_If the system hasn't registered him as a threat to Heaven's purity, then the reason must be miraculous. _

Michael made sure to keep his eye on Percy and Gabriel. The boy responded well to Gabriel's curiosity, polite but familiar in his tone, his attention entirely on her as she talked_. _

And then Michael realized that, _no_, Percy's attention wasn't fully on Gabriel. The boy's hand hadn't once left the pommel of his sword. His knuckles weren't white with strain anymore, and they moved as his fingers drummed along the sword's handle, but the hand still rested there, vigilant, brimming with suspicion. Every so often, Percy would flit his gaze to Michael. It never lasted for even a second. It never happened when Gabriel was looking at him.

But it happened.

_Dangerous, young, and full of anger. _Michael recalled his first glimpse of Percy's face. _Anger hot enough to boil his innards, hot enough to be a star in its own way. He _needed_ a miracle. He _needs_ a miracle, still._

The system chose Percy's prayer for a reason. There had to be a grand scheme.

A thousand years dead, and God still worked in mysterious ways.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

"… and that's when I learned that giraffes were more dangerous than they looked," Percy said, giving Gabriel a knowing smile. "Especially the ones trained by a master martial artist."

"Whaaaat~!" Gabriel laughed as he ended his story. "You've had a lot of fun, haven't you? It sure sounds that way, at least."

"I guess you could say that." Percy looked at Michael. "What do you think? Ever been judo chopped by a giraffe before?"

Michael shook his head. "I can't say I have."

Percy hummed. "Probably best to keep it that way. Just my opinion."

Finally, they settled into silence again. Gabriel and Percy had been bouncing from topic to topic without a care for the better part of an hour. Michael added his own two cents whenever he felt it was appropriate, but mostly, he let the two of them talk between themselves. After he'd come to his own tentative conclusion regarding Percy, there hadn't been much of a point in probing for personal information. Not at the moment.

Time would tell more anyway. Michael liked to think that he was a decent judge of character, and Percy seemed like he was a trusting sort of person.

Michael cleared his throat. "If you don't mind me asking, what will you do next? Considering that you've come quite far from your home…"

Percy ran a thumb over his eyebrow thoughtfully. "That's a good question. Tell you the truth, I don't have plans. It would've been cool to stay here if I were dead and all, but, well, it kinda feels like I'd be cheating. Not that I don't cheat. Still, this would be different from counting cards, wouldn't it? Guess I'll go back to Earth."

"Yes, I see what you mean," Michael said. No miracle could stand alone. Without support, a miracle would be tantamount to earning a fair wage for one day's worth of labor: something nice but ultimately pointless. This was a chance to follow through. "Perhaps, then, I can help."

"Help? Help how?"

"You might need a place to live, right? Not to mention money for the necessities of everyday human life. I'd like to provide you with that much, at the very least."

Percy stared at Michael for a moment. "I can't ask for that."

"Consider it a gift from God." It must have been what God wanted. The system granted Percy a miracle-in-progress, and Michael was bound to see it completed. If the system could trust Percy, so could he.

"Listen… I mean… Uh…" For the first time, Percy seemed to actually struggle with something. "I can't accept that."

"Why not?" Gabriel asked. "Michael is right! Father would have wanted this. For sure~! That's just how he was. You need help, right? Let us help you in the name of Heaven."

_Gabriel! _For a few terrifying seconds, Michael was forced to hold his breath after his sister inadvertently hinted at God's death. If word of His passing were to spread, well, the system would certainly fail. Faith in the word was all that remained to preserve. Doing so would keep God's work from falling apart.

Percy studied Gabriel with an odd expression. His eyes turned to the bright ceiling ponderously.

Michael's heart thundered in his chest.

"Thanks," Percy said, having brought his attention back to them rather than the empty throne of Heaven. "If that's what he would want, then I won't argue. Tell him I said thanks, will you?"

"I'm sure he'll appreciate that," Michael said. He gave Gabriel a quick look, hoping to convey his disapproval at her performance.

"So…" Percy raised an eyebrow. He seemed at least somewhat less suspicious than earlier. "This might sound rude, but is there any way I can choose where I live?"

"Oh? Do you have a preference? I'm sure we can accommodate you." Michael gratefully took the change in topic for all it was worth.

The wicked bronze sword shifted in tandem with Percy as he leaned forward. "Would New York City be too much to ask for?"

* * *

Author Note - I know a lot of people don't like or read these, so I'll try to keep them brief if I want to address something. Anyway, I'm a fan of both PJO and DxD, and while I want to keep certain things the same from both series, I'll obviously be taking some liberties with canon and character. A few of the characters I wanted to make mainstays of the fic haven't been characterized much (or at all) in canon DxD as of Shin Vol. 2, so yeah, I'll be interpreting them and creating backstories a bit more loosey-goosey than other recurring and long-running characters.

As for the PJO side, I'm gonna use two characters alone. Percy and his baddie. I'm going to scale both of them up in order to give them more weight in the DxD-verse, since things went off the deep-end of power creep a while back in both the novels and anime. That said, my vision for this fic isn't to run all the way through to Shin or strictly follow the canon path.

Expect OOC to some extent, at least, considering I'm not overly familiar with writing these characters.

To address the inevitable questions I see in many review sections, let me say this: Percy won't be "joining" a faction by becoming a devil, angel, etc. He also will not have a Sacred Gear. Hope that helps.

In the future, I might rate the story M. For now, I really don't see a need to. Expect the usual amounts of violence for PJO and DxD, and until we get to Issei, much less perversion.

Thanks for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either property. Rights go to their respective owners.**

* * *

Chapter 2

Miracles? Did you think miracles were solely a feat Yahweh could perform? Didn't you know... even the saddest worm can realize miracles?

-_Quote attributed to Dragon King Tiamat_

* * *

Tiamat filled her lungs with rich Overworld air. Unlike the Underworld, Earth had such a delicate balance of magical energy mixed throughout its environments. From forests and mountains to jungles and seashores, everything on Earth felt so pleasantly correct.

It had always felt this way, thankfully.

So much more different than the Underworld's flavor, which was tinged with rot. At first, she'd hated the way Underworld air felt on her skin, so slick and oily, nauseating her with the scent of decay. But after spending some time there, she'd grown fond of the place.

However, nothing could compare to Earth. Neither Heaven nor Hell. It was why she spent more time on Earth rather than in the Underworld, even though she had homes in both places.

Every time she arrived back on Earth after a few days spent in the Underworld, Tiamat liked to take time to cleanse her palate, freeing herself from the feeling of decay that attached itself to her in the Underworld.

Today though, there was something else saturating the air. She could feel it rubbing like charcoal against her skin, abrasive, scratching.

This feeling… she doubted anybody else would be able to feel it. At least, nobody else in the immediate area.

Tiamat, like all primordials, was sensitive to the shifts of fate that continually plagued the world. The people around her wouldn't know anything was wrong. Humans were painfully dull in some regards. They would think this was a day like any other.

But she knew better, she knew something was wrong. The tapestry of destiny containing all possible threads for all possible futures had been changed. Something had been added to it — a variable with its own frayed threads.

An anomaly had suddenly appeared, one week ago, breaking destiny.

She'd ignored it at first. While she had been curious, she'd fully expected the niggling to stop after a few days. At first, she really had believed that. But with every passing day, the niggling became stronger, grew in its intensity.

Like claws, like hooks, the anomaly dug itself into her abdominal innards, pulling, pulling, taunting her with its mystery, insisting that she seek it out.

And so she had decided to do just that, which was why she'd deigned to visit this city in the first place.

Tiamat scanned her immediate surroundings. A smorgasbord of electric pulses traveled up her spine, each one signifying the presence of a non-human entity. There were hundreds in such a small radius, yet none of them drew her attention for long.

So, then, her target was further away.

How annoying. Big cities were always a nuisance to navigate, especially since they attracted so many kinds of inhuman creatures.

This place — New York City — was no exception.

In fact, along with Los Angeles and Chicago, New York City had a relatively large population of sedentary demons and monsters compared to the rest of the United States of America.

Of course, everybody knew that Rio de Janeiro was home to more non-humans than any other city in the Western Hemisphere, so Tiamat was at least glad she hadn't been forced to search there.

_Still, why did it have to be New York?_ Tiamat felt like growling.

She was on the lower tip of Manhattan, specifically in Battery Park. Her search hadn't been a long one, and she doubted it would be, but traveling further into this den of humanity was not how she'd been hoping to start her day.

The jungle of a city loomed in front of her, made of concrete and metal and glass, only half-obfuscated by a line of frail trees.

She looked behind her, to where the giant green Statue of Liberty stood on its small island in the bay.

_So, this is what freedom smells like. _Again, she inhaled, flaring her nostrils wide. This time, she was assaulted by the thick aroma of… _Processed meats?_

The businessman sitting beside her took a bite of his hot dog.

_Well… maybe freedom smells different in other parts of the country. _

Tiamat stood from the bench. Eyes followed her, and she knew it. The weak were attracted to the strong. Sheep needed a shepherd.

Unfortunately for them, Tiamat had no interest in shepherding the insignificant.

Ancient power seeped out of her pores. A gust of wind from the bay sent her mild display of dominance sprawling over the city, smothering it with the essence of a peerless predator.

Her essence.

Eyes snapped away. The creatures that had been trying to pry finally realized how paltry their existence was when compared to hers.

None would try to approach her now, human or otherwise.

She had announced herself and sent her warning. There was little else to do but march into the heart of the city so she could continue her search. At the very least, she hoped to be done looking before the day was over.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

What was there to say about traveling through Manhattan on foot that hadn't already been said?

Tiamat thought it was a miserable way to spend her morning.

While the scent of car exhaust definitely filled her with a particular desire to hurry, the teeming horde of pedestrians only let her walk at their pace.

At least here in the city, people understood the concept of moving with a purpose. They had their own short lives to lead and seemed to be in a hurry to do precisely that, which she could appreciate for the irony if nothing else.

Maybe she pitied them. Poor humans with their pitifully fragile existences.

Humans only had two things certain in life: death and taxes.

If there was anything that Tiamat sincerely pitied humans for, it was their obligation to pay taxes. Gods didn't have to pay taxes. Neither did dragons. Being both god and dragon meant Tiamat was doubly immune to paying taxes.

There was no government fearsome enough to take away her accumulated wealth.

She pitied humans less for their propensity to die since everything had to die at some point. Gods died, though they could reform. But gods could die permanently too; sometimes dead gods would never return from the abyss, their consciousness having been lost to time, their thread in the tapestry finally ending.

In other words, nothing was immune to death. Humans only died faster than gods. That was the only difference. Death was everybody's final destination.

Ergo, why would she pity humans for that? Eventually, she would die too. Permanently. Just like Marduk. Just like Inanna. Just like El. Just like Yahweh.

Just like Abzu.

She would face that day with dignity. That much she had promised herself.

The scent of a nearby mobile kitchen preparing its wares made her pause. _Ah, the smell of freedom really _is_ processed meat. What are the odds? _

This would be the umpteenth her stomach demanded something to fill it. Coincidentally, this was also the umpteenth mobile kitchen she'd passed.

It was a silly oversight that she hadn't brought any money with her.

She pursed her lips, dismayed and hungry, wondering how many people would notice if she were to hypnotize the street vendor.

None, probably.

She could easily persuade the vendor to give her a free sample of his wares. Nobody around would be any the wiser.

Just as she was about to carry out her plan, something else tickled her senses. She turned her head and was met by a building that stretched to the sky. The monolith towered over thirty stories, with tall windows cutting rectangles into its face.

Out of that building had just walked a boy.

And that boy was her target.

_Found you._

Their eyes met from across the street. The boy watched her for a second, and Tiamat was left confused by his youth. While she couldn't determine his exact age, he must have been just exiting his adolescence.

Before she could observe him further, the boy raised an eyebrow at her, then walked away, hands in his pockets, countenance more buoyant than it should have been during a meeting with a Dragon King.

It was all Tiamat could do not to let her mouth hang open at the blatant disregard for her presence.

Only the gods would be so arrogant, and, from what she could tell, the boy was no god. At least, he was no true god. Inside of him smoldered the cinders of divinity, true, but they were not flames, and she doubted they would ever become flames.

_God-born_, she decided. The boy was the child of a god. What else could he be? His divinity, while weak, was undeniable. She had seen it, tasted it already, and with that one meeting, she knew he was god-born. Equally important was his mortality, which Tiamat could more easily discern, even from afar.

He was human, but also divine.

A demigod?

The anomaly was a demigod.

When had she last met a half-human demigod? Had it already been a few centuries? Had it been more?

_So long ago that I can't even properly remember. _

Tiamat followed him. When he turned the corner, she was forced to cross the street in a hurry.

While it was true that she'd be able to find him again fairly easily thanks to his unique flavor profile, the indignation of his dismissal kept her legs moving. The din of car engines and people speaking and nearby construction bounced off of the new age high-rises around her, layers of glass and steel forming great towers filled with thousands of lives.

It was the beating heart of a city laid open for anybody to see.

They kept moving through Midtown. She was only eighty paces behind him at any given time. As they passed city blocks, the architecture changed from contemporary office buildings to older stone tenements.

Soon they were crossing into Central Park, the boy still moving at a hard pace despite his otherwise lax posture. He walked under trees and past groups of people with equal amounts of poise. Wending his way on the paths didn't seem to bother him; he knew exactly where he was going.

He eventually came to a stop after leading Tiamat down a narrow trail, which took them right to the edge of a small lake.

_The chase ends, the hunt begins. What will he do now? _

The boy turned around, his shoes just a scant few inches from touching the lake water behind him. His face was torn between amusement and exasperation when he saw Tiamat standing ten paces away.

He pulled his hands from his pockets.

In his right hand, he held a pen. His left came out empty.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked.

It took her a few seconds to process the question. His voice was calm but not calming. In fact, there was something hidden in the pitch and timbre that made Tiamat puzzle.

Tiamat smoothed any wrinkles out of her blouse. The boy was just as impudent as he'd first impressed upon her. Annoying, but it told her something. She turned up her nose at him and fought to keep the tug in her gut from affecting her voice. "Is there another reason I would travel to this cesspit of a city?"

The boy frowned. "Let me stop you right there, dude — "

"Dude?"

"You can talk bad about me all you want," he said with a slight shrug, "but you can't talk bad about my city. Only _I_ can call it a cesspit because I'd say it with love. Gods don't get that privilege. Sorry."

Though taken aback by the sheer insolence on display, Tiamat also couldn't stop herself from raising a curious eyebrow. "You know who I am? Yet you still chose to walk away from me?"

He smiled, confident and earnest. "I've got no clue _who_ you are. I just know that you're a god. Or a demon. Or some kind of crazy-powerful spirit. I've gotten pretty good at trusting my gut instinct when it comes to this kind of stuff."

"Demon? Spirit?" She took a step. The boy didn't so much as twitch. "Do I look pathetic enough to be classified as a demon or a spirit to you?"

"No comment."

The gall almost made her snarl. "My name is Tiamat, and I am the greatest of the five Dragon Kings. Spirits and demons? Don't lower me to plains when I stand atop mountains."

With a slow, upward tilt of his head, the boy seemed to ponder what she'd just told him. "So that's how it is, huh? Funnily enough, I'm not even surprised."

She didn't see the humor he did. "Who are you?"

He offered her a smile vaguely verging on polite. "I'm Percy. Nice to meet you, I guess."

"Percy. Hmph." She tested the name to distract her from a growing desire to punch him. "So that's it. Do you know why I'm here, Percy?"

"The birds, bees, the flowers, and the trees?" His eyes wandered to either side, dipping to the lake and rising to the sky in quick succession. "I mean, Central Park is beautiful. Especially in the spring."

"I'm here because of you."

"Me? Wait, don't tell me I owe you money. I ha — "

"No. You know I'm not a loan shark."

"You're some kind of shark, that's for sure."

"I didn't come to hear your drivel."

"Then, why _did _you come?" His eyes roamed her body, showing the first signs of real, heated suspicion. "What do you want? I hope you aren't here to kill me. I've got bad news if that's the case: you can't kill me. Emphasis on _can't_."

"Kill you?" She shook her head. "That was never my intention. But now that I'm here speaking to you…"

He nodded. "I've been told I have a talent for riling people up. Gods and monsters more than anybody else, apparently. Personally, I think you guys are a bit too sensitive."

"What others have said about you doesn't mean anything to me. I can see who you are with my own two eyes, after all."

"I take it you don't like what you see? Sorry if that's the case. I forgot to freshen up before leaving the house today."

She took two steps forward. "You've definitely managed to polarize me. Before you opened your mouth, the thought of punching you hadn't even crossed my mind. But now I'm considering it."

"We just met, and this is the first impression I get? Deja vu."

"Maybe you forgot that I'm a god. I've dealt with your kind before."

"My kind?" He raised his eyebrows. The twitch near his lip said a lot. "And what kind would _my kind_ be?"

"The brazen kind." Tiamat chose her words carefully. Her anger had abated quickly, especially now that she had gained some modicum of power in the conversation. But that left her vulnerable to the tug in her gut. She could handle the tug, though. It wasn't painful. It wasn't even uncomfortable anymore. "Usually, though, it only takes me introducing them to my fist for their impudence to ebb."

"By all means, give it a shot," he said. His body had shifted subtly, so subtly that Tiamat had almost missed it. But she noticed. "You'll reform if you die, so we can always continue this conversation later."

"I'm sorry," Tiamat couldn't stop the scoff that left her, "but did you just imply that you could kill me? Or that you _would_ kill me?"

"I'm just warning you that anything is possible. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky. Are you really willing to risk it, though? Most gods I've met try to avoid being humiliated by mortals. High risk, low reward. Imagine the hit to your pride."

Tiamat shook her head and glanced at the sky. "Being talked down to by an anomaly. What a day. Well, we can argue this until we're blue in the face, but we can also argue it at any other point in time. Instead, let's talk about how we move forward from here."

Percy, apparently interested, shifted his weight a few times as he tried to measure her with a benign air of scrutiny. He scratched his chin, then said, "I'm not sure what you mean when you call me an anomaly. And what do you mean, 'we?' You don't strike me as a 'we' person. You've definitely got the 'me, me, me' vibe going on."

She reciprocated his scrutinizing gaze, adding only a bit of bite when she kept her eyes narrowed. "You and I both know that you don't belong here. This place — this reality — isn't your home. You know that. As soon as you arrived, everybody with a sensitivity to the changes of destiny knew. I may be the first to confront you about it, but I won't be the last."

Like that, he tensed, the lines of his face set into something close to a ponderous frown. "More? How many more? I've been around for a few days, but you're the only one who came knocking."

"Believe me, there will be others. You're about as far from discreet as I can imagine. It has nothing to do with your actions. Not yet, at least. Right now, it boils down to the unnatural kind of presence you carry. Gods can sense that. Some gods, such as myself, are sensitive to oddities like you from across worlds." She shook her head helplessly, chuckling with dry humor. "If they aren't already curious, well, it won't be long until they are. The more you interact with the world, the more you'll damage it. Not that you haven't already wrought damage."

"What kind of damage have I done?" he asked skeptically. "I think I'd remember breaking anything important… Which I haven't. Not here, anyway. And not yet."

She pointed at him, then at herself, then at the ground between them. "This. You and I were never meant to meet. Yet here we are — meeting as if it were meant. Let me disabuse you of something: if you don't watch your step, someone _will_ kill you within the next two months. A god, likely."

He crossed his arms petulantly. "I'm not sure how our meeting is _damaging_."

"Just trust me that it is," she insisted.

The truth was actually embarrassing and straightforward: she wasn't sure about the specifics of the damage. All she knew was that he _was_ damaging reality. She felt as much in her heart. If nothing else, she _knew_ that.

If only she had some way of explaining it rationally.

_How irritating._

"Trust you?" His foot slid back, just barely registering as movement in Tiamat's peripheral, just barely making a sound as the sole of his shoe scraped the pavement beneath. "Why _should_ I trust you? We just met. You were ready to punch me. Punches from gods usually mean exploded heads. Doesn't sound like a great first impression we made on each other."

"I'm very trustworthy," she said, putting a hand to her chest. "Long-lived entities such as myself have our pride, and I personally pride myself on my honesty."

He flicked his pen into the air. "And how would I know that?"

"You'll just have to trust me, I suppose."

"So, we're back to square one again. The trust paradox." Percy sighed with false annoyance. "Even Einstein would have trouble figuring this out. To trust or not to trust... that is the question..."

"You're making me want to punch you again."

"Feel free to throw your best swing." Percy uncapped his pen, and suddenly he wasn't holding a pen anymore. In its stead was a bronze sword, perfectly contoured, polished to such an astonishing shine that it almost hurt to stare at. "But, I will be swinging back."

Though she hadn't noticed before, a flash of lightning drew her attention to the sky, which had been darkened by a wholly impregnable block of thick clouds. Shortly following the lightning rolled the thunder, booming, reverberating, shaking her very bones where they sat.

A drizzle started.

_What is this?_ She felt torn between wondering at the bronze sword and the weather's sudden change. There was something eerily impressive about the storm, she thought, and that feeling gnawed at her as if her stomach had been filled with rats.

How had she not noticed the storm forming? How had her attention been so thoroughly stolen that something on this scale could escape her?

She looked back at the sword and found her answer there.

There was no way she could have fought the temptation to marvel at that sword. It was an impossible task to ask of her. It was just too… too…

Rain fell.

"You have a beautiful sword."

The glowing bronze drew her eye like almost nothing had before. In fact, the sword itself touched Tiamat, resonated with her, whispering wicked and specious promises in some unknown language, no doubt taunting her about the distance they held.

"Thanks…" Percy made a strange face. He opened his mouth, presumably to say something else, but closed it shortly afterward. "I guess."

Tiamat quickly took the lead when it became clear that he was at a loss. "What's her name?"

"Riptide."

A powerful name for a powerful sword. Very fitting. It made perfect sense.

The sword — Riptide — sang of her master's prowess. She sang of her many victories. She sang of her potency. She was grace and fury, both. What more could one ask for, more than a simultaneous work of art and practical instrument of war? There was nothing. Riptide was all her master would ever need.

And when she was in her master's hands, Riptide was truly peerless. None had wielded her like her current master. None would _ever_ wield her in the same way. Riptide was at her best with Percy, not despite him nor because of him, but _with_ him, acting as a single variable in a more complex system.

Together, they were invincible. Years of familiarity, years of care, years of dedication… all those years had culminated into Percy and Riptide being incomparable. They were practically extensions of each other.

All this, Tiamat could tell with one look. She'd always been able to estimate the value of items rather easily. It was just one of her many talents.

While she wasn't as obsessed with collecting rare and interesting items as some dragons, she could appreciate a worthy treasure when she saw one. And here, she most certainly saw one.

Riptide would have made a fine addition to her collection, but taking the beautiful blade away from Percy would have dulled her shine. Riptide was only one part of the equation. She flowered only in the presence of her master.

Still, Tiamat had to try. She glared at the boy in front of her. "How much?"

"What? How much what?" he asked.

"I have several tons of jewels and precious metals," Tiamat explained patiently. "You could become a very rich man in the next few minutes. How much would it take for you to part ways with Riptide?"

Rain continued to fall around them. Another flash of lightning was followed by more tooth-rattling thunder.

Percy shook his head and gestured sharply with his free hand. "It's not for sale. Sorry."

"Twenty million. No, no. Forty million." Everybody had a price. Sometimes it took time to get there, but Tiamat already knew that.

"You could offer me billions; Riptide isn't for sale," Percy reiterated.

"I have gold and silver; rubies, sapphires, lapis lazuli; artifacts made by the gods themselves that are practically priceless," she pushed on. "I can offer you much. Powerful shields and swords, tapestries with moving images made of the finest threads, accessories which can cure even the most dangerous diseases — you can have your pick."

"No."

"I have the necessary information to help you become immortal, even. It can be yours for the — " Tiamat said.

"_No_."

Again, Tiamat was forced to sigh. If immortality and riches couldn't sway the boy, nothing would. At least, nothing she could think of. "That's unfortunate, though perhaps for the best. Riptide would lose most of her luster if I took her off your hands. Treat her well. She's one of a kind."

"You're preaching to the choir here, lady. I can't even count how many times I would've died if Riptide hadn't been with me."

With that, they stood there, studying each other in the storm, like stone sentinels guarding against nothing. Tiamat wondered if he was arrogant enough to attack her without provocation. She also had to wonder what other abilities he had hidden in his pocket.

If her sense of smell hadn't yet failed her, then the boy was born of brine. As he stirred the storm, his primary essence inundated the atmosphere, thick like the pressure at the oceans' deepest ends, full of salt and mystery and life.

The sea filtered through his veins.

He was like Tiamat. Except he was human.

Or rather, he was half-human. The other half was divine.

_The child of a sea god. So that's what he is. _Tiamat continued to examine the boy. _Or maybe he's some other mysterious force which I have yet to encounter. Since he's not from this reality, anything could be possible. This is way too novel. _

The concept of alternate realities had never been far-fetched. Creation spanned a nigh-infinite number of possible universes. All primordials knew this to be true.

Still, Tiamat had never met someone from an alternate reality.

Not until now, which meant that she'd just been presented a unique opportunity. Letting it go would have been wasteful. After all, Riptide was only one part of a more fabulous treasure. If the boy were so agreeable as to her thoughts…

"So?" Percy tapped his shoe against the ground a few times.

Tiamat blinked, brought out of her personal musings. "So?"

"Are we gonna have a problem?" he asked.

"I don't see why we would," Tiamat said, quickly deciding on her course of action. "While there are quite a few things I have to ask you, I don't see why they need to be asked right here and now. Your little display has provided me with more insight than I'd hoped."

"Really?" Riptide never dropped. "But there's a catch. There's always a catch when it comes to dealing with gods." Percy flexed his wrist a few times. "No offense, but you guys are bad at letting sleeping dogs lie."

Tiamat crossed her arms and chuckled off to the side. "It's those kinds of comments that warrant a catch in the first place. Yes, there _is_ a catch. But it's a simple one. And it doesn't even involve bloodshed."

Water ran down from the crown of his head and around his eyes. He sniffed as droplets trailed over his nostrils. "What's the catch, then?"

"You, being a fracture point, are likely to cause irreversible damage to this reality_ — my reality_. I think I want to watch as that happens. Peace is all well and good, but maybe it's time for the world to be shaken up. Therefore, I'll accompany you as havoc is wreaked. I'd like to form… a partnership. You and I. A team, you might even call it."

His glazed over stare was almost enough to make her laugh. The storm seemed to strengthen as he locked eyes with her. Soon, though, the winds died down, the rain lessened, and the world no longer threatened to shake itself apart.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yes."

She understood his reticence. To some extent, she wasn't sure that her decision was a good one. For all the time she'd been alive, Tiamat had never partnered up with a human. She'd never had the need or want. Most humans were short-lived and weak. If she wanted something like that, she would rather get some kind of pet animal, like a dog or cat.

Percy was different. He and destiny had clashed upon his arrival, and he had won. Destiny yielded, acceded to his existence, bowed and broke as he sat upon its corpse.

Well, that was a dramatic way of putting it, but it was practically the truth.

The world was going to change. It was definitely going to change.

Tiamat was sure that Percy would be one of the driving forces of that change, and she wanted to experience that change firsthand. It would be a valuable experience in its own right.

Moreover, Percy, himself, was a treasure. Not that Tiamat thought he even knew, but just because he was unable to see it didn't mean she was equally as blind.

"I don't usually work closely with gods," he said. "A lot of them end up wanting to kill me. Or they send me on quests that nearly kill me. Either way, I'm not of fan of the whole 'almost killing' thing."

Tiamat shrugged. "I'm not your biggest fan, true, but I can promise that I won't kill you without a good, rational reason."

"Our ideas of rational probably differ," Percy said.

"Maybe not so much," she retorted. "How rational was it when you drew a sword on a primordial? What kind of idiot are you, exactly?"

"The best idiot in all of New York."

"Hmph. I can see that." She stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Well? Let's shake on it."

"Why should I? Working with a god sounds like it would be bad for my health."

"I'll give you my word. On my pride."

"Why are you so set on this?" he asked. Riptide swayed from side to side in even intervals. "You don't strike me as the type to work with someone."

"You don't know me very well, clearly. Is it wrong for me to want this? Maybe your prejudice against the gods is coloring your perception of me."

Percy rubbed the side of his jaw pensively. Finally, he put his beautiful sword away, pressing the cap against the blade so that it shrank back into a pen.

She pushed her hand toward him. "Well? Truce?"

He gave her hand a wary look but reached out to shake it nonetheless.

Their skin made contact, and a bolt of blue hit Tiamat square in the chest. For a moment, it felt like her heart was being squeezed from all angles. The blood in her veins boiled. Then it froze. Pain swept through her, minute and negligible, but still there, where it hadn't been just a few seconds ago. Even the tug in her gut had returned, pulling at her entire essence.

Percy gave her hand a soft squeeze, moved it up and down, then let go. His eyes crinkled as the ghost of a smile crossed his face.

"Truce."

Tiamat stared at him for a few seconds.

What... had just happened? What had he done to her?

"You all right there, T? I think I see some green around your gills," Percy said.

Her eyebrow twitched. "You..."

Percy, apparently confused, asked, "Me? What?"

She gave him another searching glare before deciding he wasn't aware of why she was flustered. Whatever it was that he'd done, he hadn't done it purposefully. Or so it would seem.

Did that make him more dangerous, or less? She found it hard to decide. For now, she would leave it as another mystery to solve.

Tiamat smiled wryly. It had been a long time since she'd been put into such a novel situation. She was glad for it, all things considered.

Yes, the novelty would wear off eventually, but Percy would probably die before she got too bored with him. She'd seen his kind before; they lived and died by the sword. Eventually, he would insult the wrong person — just like he'd insulted her — and that person would kill Percy.

A banal tragedy, given that he was the child of a god. Few of those lived long, fruitful lives, after all, and most of them seemed to have a problem controlling their pride and using it to keep them alive. Too many let hubris cloud their better judgment.

From what she'd seen, the boy was straddling the wrong side of confidence and arrogance. It might very well be his downfall.

When he died, maybe she would take Riptide. The sword would be lonely without a master. It would be a shame if Riptide were lost. Yes, that wasn't a bad idea at all. This was already proving to be worthwhile.

"So, how is this partnership — team — gonna work, exactly? What's our mission statement? People usually partner up for a reason." Percy put his hands in his pockets. "Is there a reason for us to be partners instead of, like, friends?"

Tiamat gestured for him to follow her. "Let's discuss that later. I'm hungry, so let's go eat something before starting those kinds of talks."

Percy gave a cheeky half-smile despite the distrust still lingering in his eyes. "Food first, business second? This might be the start of a beautiful friendship, Dragon King Tiamat."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

For all that she could gripe about New York City, there was one thing Tiamat would never fail to appreciate — and that thing was the food. While processed meat was certainly the most potent scent associated with American freedom, the sheer diversity of cuisine one could find in New York City made the United States seem like some kind of ultimate, incomparable utopia.

Of course, that wasn't true. There were plenty of major cities around the world that had sizeable collections of cuisines, from Asia to Africa to Europe, people enjoyed eating something new every now and then. The only continent that couldn't boast this much was, unsurprisingly, Antarctica.

Maybe that would change if people learned how delicious penguins and seals were.

"It's funny."

Tiamat glanced at Percy out of the corner of her eye. They were walking down 6th Avenue, having just eaten a small breakfast at one of the many diners in Manhattan.

"What's funny?" she asked, playing along after he didn't continue his thought.

"This," he said. With a vague gesture, he indicated the short distance between them as they walked back to his apartment. "I've met dozens of gods. You're the only one who's ever actually _wanted_ to team up with me. Usually, they have too much pride. Working with a mortal is practically taboo. It's weird."

"I thought it was 'funny?'"

He cracked a smile. "It _is_ funny. But it's funny in a weird sort of way."

Tiamat couldn't help but sigh. "Was breakfast too quiet for you?"

They hadn't spoken much during their meal. Not that Tiamat wasn't interested in what Percy might have to say, but both of them had been more focused on filling their stomachs rather than hold a serious conversation.

"No. It wasn't that. Really, it's always been kind of weird." Percy squinted as more rain ran around his eyes. "I guess… you're an interesting god, is all. I mean, you're just as arrogant as the others I've met — "

Tiamat snorted. "Look who's talking."

"But gods don't seem to like me. So you're kind of different."

"You want to know why they don't like you?" She jabbed a finger at his face, sticking it near his nose so he could see it well. "I'll tell you why. It's because you go out of your way to provoke people. At least, that's my sentiment. And before you argue, _yes_, you were definitely provoking me earlier."

Percy frowned at her. "Was I? Really? Sorry, I guess."

"You really like to guess, don't you?" she said.

They rounded a corner and walked into the lobby of Percy's apartment building. Tiamat noted how luxurious it looked. Furniture and glass alike followed a dark color theme. Indecipherable art pieces hung on the walls, and the slate flooring had been cleaned thoroughly.

Percy lived on the 19th floor. The elevator upheld the luxurious tone set by the lobby, as did the hallways leading to his apartment.

"My place might be a bit messy," Percy warned once they came to a stop in front of what must have been his front door. He didn't wait for a response, entering without further preamble.

The apartment was modest in size, though she knew that "modest" carried different connotations depending on where one was.

While the size didn't impress her, the contents seemed much more in line with what had been presented downstairs. Likely, the apartment had come fully furnished, because pieces of adornment matched the necessities tastefully. Two sofas faced a large television in the living room, and a fully-equipped kitchen had been plotted near the entrance.

It all looked clean.

Nothing stood out to Tiamat as an obvious sign that the apartment was occupied.

Rain pattered against the windows. The clouds outside served to darken the apartment as well.

"Is this what you classify as messy?" she asked.

Percy closed the door behind him. "My room is worse."

She threw herself down onto the nearest sofa. It was very comfortable. "I now know why you didn't let me buy Riptide. If you can afford this apartment, then you must have more than enough money."

"Oh… uh…" Percy, flustered, shuffled awkwardly on his feet before he sat on the only chair in the living room. "I'm not paying… right now."

The reaction drew Tiamat's attention in full. It had been the first time she'd seen some kind of humility from him. He seemed embarrassed. "Did you hypnotize the property manager, then? Or maybe you just threatened them?"

"Hypnotize... ?" Percy cut himself off and gave her a strange look. "No. If you want specifics, direct your call to Heaven. They're the ones who set me up in this place." He leaned toward the low-rise coffee table in front of him and took hold of a remote control. The television turned on to the broadcast of a professional tennis match. "Don't get me wrong, it's nice and all, but… it's a little extravagant. Michael won't even tell me how much the rent is, which means it's probably too much."

"Wait, what's this talk about Heaven?" she asked.

"Well, I'm only living here thanks to Michael. He's helped me a lot for some reason." He looked away from the television and glanced around pensively. "I tried to tell him that I didn't need all this. It's too much. I haven't done anything to… Anyway, he didn't listen. So, yeah. That's that, I guess."

"And how did you happen to meet the prime angel in Heaven?" Tiamat asked.

Percy smiled dryly. "If you want a fast meeting with him, just crash through the gates of Zebel. Michael is probably gonna come running if you do that."

Tiamat returned his smile with one equally as dry. "I imagine that's a good way to draw his attention. How long ago was this?"

"A week. Not too long," he said.

"So it was when you first appeared in this reality." Tiamat gave him a pointed look. Of course, she didn't have any proof, but the time made sense. One week ago had been she'd first felt destiny's threads fray.

Percy stared at her blankly, silently. He muted the television. "How do you know that?"

Tiamat, again, matched his countenance. "I'm resourceful. Mind, I'm not accusing you of anything, so there's no need for you to get so tense. I doubt you _wanted_ to break into Heaven. If you did, I doubt Michael would have let you leave with your life."

"I'm not sure about that," Percy said. "Michael is a good guy."

She nodded. "He is. But there are few angels left alive with clean consciences. Michael is old. Not as old as me, but still old. He took part in the various conquests set in motion by Yahweh. He was a leader in the Great Abrahamic War. In essence, Michael is an angel hanging on to his purity by a thread. The things he's done, the things he's allowed — those things will follow him till the end of his days; there are some things we can never absolve ourselves of, and I can say, without a doubt, Michael will never find absolution."

"Whatever happened in the past, he's been good to me."

"Right." Tiamat felt like arguing would be pointless. "Well, enough about Michael. Tell me about how you ended up here. It's not every day that someone arrives from an alternate reality. There must be a reason."

"Would you believe me if I told you it was dumb luck?" he asked.

"Would I have a choice?"

"Not really, no," he confirmed. His eyes searched hers for a long while. "Still, that's really the best I can offer." Apparently, he hadn't found whatever it was he'd been searching for. He stood up, grunting as if he were an old man, and waved his arm to the small hallway branching off of the living room. "Anyway, this place isn't too big. Not big enough to be our base of operations for whatever it is our 'team' will be doing."

Tiamat allowed him to change the subject. She had a feeling that Percy was actually more trusting than he acted. Sooner or later, he would tell her what had happened to him.

In the meantime, she would have to set him straight. "Doing? We're not really _doing_ anything. Well, more to the point, _I'm _going to be watching you, experiencing the unraveling of reality firsthand. You can just do what you might normally do. That's all there is to it."

Percy scratched his head. "You made it sound different back in Central Park."

She shrugged. "This really is for my own benefit and entertainment. I can't even begin to tell you how stale things get after you live past your first few centuries."

"Believe me, I've heard it all before," he said, stifling a long yawn. "Man, I need a nap." He looked at her quizzically. "Are you gonna hang around for a while, or were you gonna head out?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'll stay for a bit longer."

"Sure. As long as you don't try to kill me, you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'll do my best to resist the overwhelming urge."

Percy nodded. "Great." He bonelessly sank further into the sofa. "Hey, why are you called 'Dragon King' anyway? I meant to ask, but it sorta slipped my mind through breakfast. It sounds pretty important."

"I'm a powerful dragon. One of the most powerful," she explained. "We're classified as Dragon Kings in order to show our importance. There's me, Yu-Long, Fafnir, Midgardsormr, and Vritra. I'm the strongest of the five. Above me are the Heavenly Dragons: Albion and… Ddraig. Above them are Ophis and Great Red, the Infinite Dragon and the True Dragon. I guess Tannin is also a strong dragon, used to be a Dragon King, though he's technically a devil now. Then again, he's not as strong as I am."

"Wait, you're literally a dragon?" Percy settled his attention on her. "Like, with scales and fire and stuff? Is that why you have so much money? Are you a hoarder?"

"Were you listening to me at all?"

Percy waved his hand playfully. "Yeah, I got it, I got it — dragon ranks, Ddraig, Tannin, got it, got it. But for real, are you a hoarder?"

Tiamat sighed. It was just her luck to have found the most ridiculous little anomaly out there. Still, part of her didn't mind educating him. He would hopefully make for an entertaining companion if nothing else.

* * *

Author Note: Thank you to all who showed their support by following/favoriting. Special thanks to those who reviewed.

Tiamat, Tiamat. Tough to write. Not much to go on in the novels, so I have to play it fast and loose here with her personality. Is she obsessed with treasure? An argument can be made. Do I think she'd admit it? No, I don't. That's the vibe I was going for.

Percy. My intention isn't to be perfectly accurate to where we last saw him in canon Riordanverse. Similar, yes. But not a 1-to-1 comparison. Things went a little different for him in this fic, which means he has his own backstory to unpack. I always liked to think that the faux-confidence he plays for his enemies could become innocent arrogance if he didn't come so close to losing on more than one occasion. But that's just my headcanon. Here, he has a reason to be confident.

Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I think people are both easier and harder to treasure than random junk. Is that a popular opinion? I never said it was an original musing, right?

-_Quote attributed to Dragon King Tiamat_

* * *

A voice, beautiful and soft; a voice, broken and hurt.

A voice called Tiamat back into the waking world, out of the mire of sleep fogging her mind.

Her eyes opened. She puzzled at her surroundings for a few seconds, just long enough for the memories of yesterday to filter back through her mind.

_Percy. This is his apartment. I'm on his sofa._

Thoughts came quickly and filled those gaps she had been wondering about. She sat up on the sofa she'd been using as a bed, wrestling with a blanket that hadn't been on her earlier. The apartment was dark; the living room was more than dark enough to blind any human, but Tiamat could see everything around her in perfect detail.

It was strange, she thought, that she had fallen asleep in his apartment, on his sofa, and before even he had gone to sleep. It was strange because normally, Percy was the first to fall asleep.

Even though she'd only known him for a week, she knew about a few of his quirks. His awful sleep cycle was just one thing she'd come to learn about. He took no less than four naps every day. It was actually more than a little ridiculous, she thought. Didn't he have anything better to do?

_Why am I here in the first place? Shouldn't I be home?_ They were more acquainted than perfect strangers, true, but less acquainted than tentative friends. She hadn't thought they were close enough for her to sleep on his sofa.

Oh, right. They had been playing some kind of game, hadn't they? A game that involved alcohol and guessing certain things about the other person. That had been… funny. Tiamat even brought out one of her finer bottles of wine—fortified to deific levels—so that they could both get at least a little giggly.

And giggly they had gotten. Tiamat couldn't help but chuckle when she remembered Percy throwing himself over the sofa in an exaggerated mimicry of his "epic wrestling match with a magical otter."

_"And then it threw me down from the Golden Gate Bridge... like this!" _

_"I put that giant otter in a choke-hold, but it wouldn't stop fighting. I'm pretty sure it was doping." _

_"Dude, otters are _scary_. Take it from me, Big Wing Boy." _

Tiamat would remember that particular story for a while, she was sure.

Outside, a gentle rain fell, and the noise of droplets on the windows filled the apartment.

Tiamat rubbed the side of her head. Instead of indulging in the memories of last night, she switched to wondering about the voice that had woken her. She was sure it was real. Gods didn't dream. Not unless the Dream wanted them to dream. And she was sure the Dream hadn't been trying to contact her.

So what had it been, then? What had managed to stir her from her slumber? Who's voice could leak into her mind like water through wooden slats?

She didn't know. It had never happened to her before. This was something new.

_One week spent in his presence, and I've already been exposed to another interesting experience. _Tiamat licked her lips, wetting them after they'd seemingly gone dry. _The world will end sooner than I'd expect if this keeps up. _

She wanted to find the voice—the source.

But where could she start? The Earth's natural energy was laced throughout the atmosphere, creating a network of crossing traces leading in every direction around the globe. With so much magical saturation, it would take too long…

Except, Tiamat learned, it wouldn't take long at all.

On a whim, she had gone ahead and searched the area, extending her senses out to cover everything within a fifty-mile radius of herself. She hadn't expected to find anything, but by some strange twist of fate, she did.

_There. _Victorious, she latched on to an unusual concentration of demonic energy almost directly east of her. About thirty leagues. _So that's where you are. _

Tiamat summoned a raincoat with a minor application of magic and slipped it on. Then, she went and knocked on Percy's bedroom door.

He didn't answer for her first round of knocks, nor the second. Had the wine been too much for him? It put mortal alcohol to shame, after all, so maybe Percy hadn't been able to handle it as well as she could. Normal humans ran the risk of dying by taking just one sip.

Oh. Maybe that was it.

Maybe she'd accidentally killed him. There was probably some kind of cosmic irony in that sense. After all his blustering, he died due to extreme liver failure. That would make a funny story to tell. And, of course, if he were dead, Riptide would need a new master. She swallowed thickly, thinking about holding the sword in her own two hands.

As she debated on simply entering his room, he appeared.

"Tiamat?" He rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hand. "Is this about the pay-per-view—"

"There's a powerful source of demonic energy to the east. A voice woke me up." She hid mild disappointment at her inability to claim Riptide for herself. "I think it'd be in our best interest to investigate."

He gave her a bleary blink. "Demonic energy? East? Our?"

Her eyes bore into his. "It's up to you whether you want to go or not… I'm only here to watch what happens around you… But I think this is one of _your_ problems."

"I only have one problem," Percy said, interrupting himself with a yawn, "and you'd better hope it isn't him. Still, demonic energy means devils, right? Michael told me about them. They aren't all bad."

"They aren't all good," she said.

"Fair enough." Percy nodded, wincing when his neck cracked in a few different places. He yawned one more time, much more forcefully than before, then rubbed his eyes and started closing the door. "Give me a minute to get dressed."

"We're going?"

He nodded again, this time with clarity on his face. Apparently, the alcohol hadn't affected him much more than it had her. "Yeah. Can't let someone mess with my city all willy-nilly. I wouldn't be much of a New Yorker if I did."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Though she didn't know how long it would have taken to travel to their destination by mortal methods, Tiamat was sure teleportation ended up being quicker. As soon as Percy had gotten into more practical clothing, they'd traveled to the source of the demonic energy via her transportation magic.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"Not sure," Percy said. "It's too dark for me to make out."

Tiamat huffed, letting a small geyser of fire leave her mouth. The fire swirled in the air above them, creating a ring about ten feet from edge to center.

Yellow light danced around them.

Rain still fell from dark clouds far secluded in the sky.

They looked at their surroundings in unison.

Small rocks made up most of the shoreline they stood on. Littered among those rocks were larger ones which had been half-buried over time. Not far from where they stood was the barely illuminated shape of a tall structure built atop an elevated foundation.

Fire crackling and waves rolling were the only two sounds that caught Tiamat's attention.

With the limited light allotted to them, she could see Percy scrutinizing the area, his eyes scanning, searching, and she noticed when he stopped to look at something for just a few seconds more than the previous thing. He didn't stay that way long, though. Once he'd swept the area, his expression loosened.

"I think we're on one of the smaller islands off the eastern tip of Long Island. I forget the names," he said.

"I suppose it's not important." Tiamat didn't think knowing their precise location actually mattered. "Do you see anything unusual?"

Percy glanced up. "Aside from the floating ring of fire?"

"Yes, apart from that," she agreed, smiling a bit at his inane question. Some things were better left un-analyzed.

"Then, no." He squinted to the darker corners of the island. "Can you get a better read on the demon—er, devil? Whatever it is."

"The energy spreads too much throughout the island. We might as well try the lighthouse first, then scan the perimeter. Maybe the devil wanted to get out of the rain."

He looked at her. "You think?"

Tiamat shrugged. "Who knows? The rain doesn't bother me."

Percy held his hand up to catch some droplets that came through the center of the ring of fire. "Yeah. Rain is pretty nice. Really makes you think, doesn't it?"

Before she could understand what he meant, Percy was off, walking toward the lighthouse. He carefully stepped around the sharper rocks and broken pieces of driftwood. She followed him. The ring followed her following him.

The lighthouse was in disrepair. Chunks of stone were missing from the walls. It wouldn't stand against nature for much longer. She figured it might be able to weather the next couple of big storms before it toppled.

"Huh." Percy suddenly stopped to look at his feet. "You think…?"

Tiamat peered down as well. A smeared puddle of red gathered at the base of a large rock. Tiamat inhaled; the tang of demonic essence reached her nostrils and tickled her brain. "No question. Devil blood. Maybe there's a trail?"

Percy took out his pen and flicked the cap off. Glowing bronze replaced the cheap plastic body.

Riptide still entranced Tiamat.

Beautiful was an insulting descriptor. Riptide was more than beautiful. She was more than just a sword or a tool. She was inspiring and terrifying, powerful and merciful, stained by blood and pure as a newborn. She was impossible to do justice with words alone.

_Legendary. _Tiamat shivered as the word crawled from the back of her addled mind. _Such a legendary blade. And she says her wielder is just as legendary. _

"Let's go." Percy held Riptide confidently. His fingers were just tight enough, his arm raised just high enough, his wrist just stable enough. "We've got a mystery on our hands. Let's split up and look for clues. You go search the creepy lighthouse, and I'll stay here."

"Don't be stupid," Tiamat said. "We'll search the lighthouse together."

"C'mon, that's not how it's supposed to go. We're supposed to separate," he whined.

She sighed and gestured for him to keep walking. Percy gave her a petulant glare but did as she recommended. They continued toward the lighthouse. When the ring of flame illuminated more of the structure, a smear of blood came into sight, as if someone had dragged their hand over the wall to support themselves while moving onward.

Percy nodded in appreciation. "Now that's classic horror."

Tiamat shook her head. "It's cliche suspense, at best."

He pulled a disapproving face at her. They rounded a small portion of the lighthouse.

"Looks like we found our source," she said.

An old wooden staircase led up to the entrance of the lighthouse. Sitting at the bottom of those stairs, curled in on herself protectively, a girl with purple hair bled from a puncture wound in her shoulder.

"So… she's the devil?" Percy asked skeptically. When Tiamat looked at him, she saw an odd expression of discontent mark his face. "Not very devilish. Devil-like? Devil-esque?"

"She's about as devil as they come," Tiamat said. Her nostrils flared. "But she's also part… human? I can smell the reek. It's just like yours."

"I do take offense to that," he protested.

"What will you do with her?" she asked.

For a moment, he just stood there, studying the girl evenly. Tiamat wondered what was running through his head. Sometimes, he came across as an idiot. Sometimes, he was dangerously provocative. Most of the time, he was sleeping.

She wondered if he suffered from some kind of serious dyssomnia. That would explain his propensity for napping.

"You think she's a threat?" he finally asked.

Tiamat heaved her shoulders. "Hypothetically, yes. Her demonic power is low right now, but I have a feeling it's usually quite immense. Especially given how much she's already ejected into the surrounding area. Not to mention… there's something strange about her."

"Strange how? Except for the hair. That's an easy target, and you'd be one to talk regardless."

"Look, if you don't do something, the girl is going to bleed to death."

Percy slicked back his rain-matted hair to get it away from his eyes. He crouched down in front of the girl, using one finger to prod her face repeatedly. They didn't look like gentle prods, either. The girl's head shifted each time he touched her.

Eventually, the girl opened her eyes, wincing as she moved the rest of her body. Percy shuffled back a few inches, still crouched.

"Wha…?"

Percy touched two fingers to his head and saluted. "Hey, you all right there?"

"What's... Where… am I?" the girl asked, her voice fragile. She struggled to sit up.

"New York. Well, close to Long Island—"

"Who are... you?" She didn't let Percy finish talking, immediately launching into another question. The girl's eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on any one thing. They fluttered, moving to an untimed beat as her head bobbed from side to side. "Are you... going... to kill me?"

"No, no," Percy said, frowning. "I'm not here to kill you. I mean, I don't even know who you are."

The girl's head pitched forward, but she caught herself before she could topple to the ground. "In... g... vild. I'm… Ingvild. Ingvild… Mostrøm... Leviathan? I don't know… I just… What's…?"

_Leviathan? The Satan Leviathan? One of the original four Devil Kings? _Tiamat scrutinized the girl more closely. _Well, that would explain her impressive demonic presence. But she feels human. Strange. Is she a half-blood? No, that should be impossible. Perhaps demonic atavism? _

"Okay, okay, hold on, you're okay," Percy put a hand on her uninjured shoulder, steadying her in place. He gave her a gentle shake. "Listen, Ingvild, my name's Percy. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"They... attacked us... home... devils..."

Percy quickly glanced back at Tiamat. They shared a look, then he turned back to Ingvild. "Devils attacked you?"

The girl nodded. That action itself almost made her fall over. "Devils..."

Percy chewed on his lower lip for a few seconds. He closed his eyes. His fingers dug a little deeper into the girl's shoulder. When he opened his eyes again, he leaned closer to the girl. "Do you need some help?"

Ingvild Leviathan looked up at Percy. "What?"

_The girl seems_ _delirious._

"Do you need help? I can help you, if you want." Percy kept the girl from falling again. "But only if you want. If you say no, I won't keep bothering you. So, do you want me to help you, Ingvild?"

Tiamat raised an eyebrow. Was he one of _those_ people? He hadn't struck her as _that_ kind of person, but apparently he'd hidden it well.

In a way, this was good. _Those _kinds of people usually got involved in conflict more often.

Slowly, haltingly, Ingvild nodded at Percy's question. Though her eyes still hadn't focused much, Tiamat could see a small measure of relief flashing across the girl's face.

Percy gave her a reassuring pat on her back. "Nice. Here, let's get you on your feet."

"Are… Are you… helping me?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna help you, okay?" He took her by the hand. "Bear with me for a bit. I want to get you up."

"I… I can't stand." Ingvild Leviathan shifted the white and lilac-colored dress she wore. A deep, clean line had been carved into the outer part of her left leg, starting from the back of her calf up to the middle of her thigh. Bloody bone and flesh peered out from the wound. The leg was probably useless to her.

"That's bad," Percy said, examining the cut with a morbid huff. He didn't bother trying to calm the girl further. Instead, he turned to Tiamat. "Might be a stretch to ask, but since you're a god—dragon—do you know any healing magic?"

Tiamat looked at the girl. "Are you so magically drained that you can't even cast a basic recuperation spell on yourself?"

Ingvild blinked away droplets of rain. "I never learned magic…"

_Is she serious? A devil of the Leviathan bloodline wasn't taught the most rudimentary spells in case she was hurt? _Tiamat wasn't sure how that was possible.

Maybe the girl really _was_ delirious. She had lost a lot of blood, after all. That would explain quite a bit. The girl wasn't in her right state of mind.

"Can you help her?" Percy asked again.

Tiamat hummed.

With a wave of her hand, she summoned a plastic vial from her vault of amassed wealth. It appeared in her hand with a spark of green fire. She studied the vial before tossing it to Percy.

"Magic potion?" he asked as it landed in his open palm.

Despite his skeptical tone, Tiamat thought it was funny how close to the mark he'd come with that guess. "Technically, yes. Those are a cheap imitation of Phoenix Tears."

He held the vial up to his eyes. "Phoenix Tears? That definitely sounds magical."

"As I said, it's not the real stuff. I have authentic Phoenix Tears in storage, but they won't be necessary here. All you have to do is put a few drops on the affected areas."

Percy did just that. Ingvild's eyes closed, and her wounds slowly started to do the same. Soon, instead of red flesh and white bone peeking from beneath the girl's injuries, there was only fair skin plastered in blood.

The injuries had healed in less than a minute. Authentic Phoenix Tears would have healed her in an instant. Those were best used on life-threatening wounds.

If Percy was surprised in any fathomable way, he didn't show it. "Useful. Hey, Ingvild, let's get you back to my place, okay? Uh… Ingvild?"

The girl had gone limp in his arms. Her chest still rose and fell, but she didn't respond to her name being called.

"She's only sleeping," Tiamat said.

Despite that, Percy fussed over the girl, checking her pulse and opening one of her eyes to examine its reaction. Once he was satisfied with her health, he put Riptide away and gathered the girl in his arms, lifting her without so much as a grunt.

"Okay. Let's go back."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

"I'm gonna have to change the sheets later," Percy muttered, setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him.

"The blood?" Tiamat asked.

"The blood," he confirmed.

"You should have given her a bath."

Percy rubbed his chin. "Maybe you've got a point."

Tiamat chuckled. The two of them were seated in the living room. Two lamps by the television gave them a dim source of light.

Shortly after they'd arrived back in the apartment, Percy had carried the girl to his room so she could rest. The girl hadn't yet woken up—_ironic, everything considered_—which wasn't doing them any favors when it came to getting answers.

Percy spun Riptide between his fingers as if the legendary wonder was nothing more than a toy. He sighed. "You know, it kind of sucks that this is my new normal."

She tilted her head in his direction. "What do you mean?"

"Not that I'm complaining… Okay, maybe I'm complaining a little…"

"I'm not sure I follow."

He tapped Riptide against the sofa. "Don't worry about it. Just thinking out loud."

"I see…"

She wanted to know more. But she didn't ask. It was too soon, they were too distant. He clearly wasn't willing to let his guard down for more than a few sentences.

He picked up the remote control from off the coffee table and turned on the television. He glanced at her. "Hey, by the way, thanks for helping that girl. She probably would have died without you there."

Tiamat crossed her legs. The television played a movie she was sure she'd already seen many times. "I didn't expect to hear that coming from you. Half in part because of your arrogance, half because it isn't your place to thank me for helping another person who you just met."

"Nah, it—it isn't like that for me," he said. "I told her I'd help her out, but all I would've done was stop the bleeding. I can hurt people, but I can't heal people." Percy smiled without a hint of humor at the thought. "So, yeah. Thanks. It means a lot to me."

"Well…" Tiamat wanted to say something else, but settled for saying, "You're welcome."

_More humility. He really is hard to read. There must be more to it that I'm not seeing yet. _

Percy kept watching the movie. Something exciting had just happened, and now people were firing guns at each other.

As more of the scene unfolded, Tiamat came to realize that she hadn't actually seen this particular movie. The actors must have looked similar to the one she'd mistaken it for. Maybe the cinematography seemed familiar.

After the exciting scene came a much less interesting one, quiet and dark, focused mainly on explaining something about one of the characters.

The hushed, droning voices and uninspired camerawork bored her.

She looked at Percy... and found that he was asleep.

Only five minutes, and he'd fallen asleep.

That was impressive, she thought. Odd, but impressive. It was the biggest quirk she knew Percy had.

Tiamat shrugged and watched the rest of the movie.

Unlike Percy, sleep didn't come easy for her this night, and it boiled down to that girl resting in the bedroom. The voice—Tiamat could still hear the voice. It was definitely Ingvild Leviathan's voice, if slightly altered. Tiamat didn't know what kind of magic the girl had cast, but it lingered, it burrowed, parasitic.

An hour later saw the movie end. Tiamat shook her head at the meandering plot and stood up. She wouldn't be able to endure another mediocrity. She reached for the remote control beside Percy's hand.

Just as she changed the channel, a nearby scent caught her attention.

_Devils. _She turned. _And just outside. What—_

A sharp, rattling knock pierced the apartment.

Percy snapped awake. He looked at Tiamat, who looked back at him.

The rain continued tapping away at the windows.

There was another set of knocks. Tiamat gestured to the entrance. "I think that's for you."

Percy opened and closed his jaw a few times, loosening it while he stood. He answered the door, "Can I help you?"

Two men stood side by side. Both devils. One of them—a devil wearing a hat and raincoat—smiled. "Hello. My partner and I have been made aware that a certain person we are searching for may be in your home."

"Person? What kind of person? I don't know any people."

The second devil, one with bright blue eyes, said, "She's about your age and has very noticeable purple hair. Perhaps she's injured. Have you seen someone like that?"

"Purple hair? Did she have coppery-orange eyes too? Goes by Ingvild Leviathan?" Percy asked.

"So you have seen her," the hat-wearing devil said.

"Yeah. She's actually asleep right now. I can take a message and give it to her when she wakes up if you want."

Tiamat was sure Percy wasn't naive enough to think the two devils in front of him would be leaving a message. Someone as paranoid as Percy? No. But if that was the case, why hadn't he taken Riptide out of his pocket yet?

The strangers gave each other surreptitious glances. The hat-wearing devil gathered demonic energy in his hand while the other devil reached behind his back.

Percy didn't seem to notice.

"No, that won't be necessary. Goodbye."

Just as the hat-wearing devil raised his arm to unleash his magic, Percy struck, like a viper. His knuckles buried themselves in the hat-wearing devil's torso, who fell to his knees, wheezing.

While the hat-wearing devil floundered, the second devil lunged forward with a dagger he'd drawn from behind his back. Percy took two steps back, fluidly retreating further into the apartment. His hand darted to his pocket and came back up in the span of a second.

The devil followed, lunged again…

And was met by glowing, _entrancing_, wicked bronze. Riptide's blade ran through the devil's heart. He'd fallen right on the sword when it interposed itself between him and his target. His lunge had left him no room to maneuver away.

Percy pushed the devil back through the doorway, into the hall. Tiamat got off the sofa so she could get a better view of what was happening.

Bronze arced.

The blue-eyed devil lost his head, and his legs buckled. His corpse quickly dissolved into a flurry of black ash.

Percy turned to the hat-wearing devil, who had yet to rise from the blow he'd taken. His lower ribs had probably fractured, which might also lead to serious diaphragm damage. With one swing, Riptide took that devil's head too.

Black ash slowly fluttered into the air, carried away by a non-existent breeze. For some reason Tiamat couldn't fathom, there hadn't been any blood spilled. The devils were dead, cut open by Riptide's wonderfully pristine edge, yet they hadn't bled. Very strange.

Percy looked down either side of the hallway cautiously. Letting go of a short breath, he put the cap back onto his sword. Riptide shrank into its standard guise.

The attack had lasted five seconds. And now it was over. The legendary sword and her most precious wielder had won, yet again.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

"You should have left one alive to interrogate," Tiamat said as Percy re-entered the apartment.

"You're probably right," he admitted, closing the door behind him softly. His expression had drawn into an unsettled frown. "There are a lot of things I could have asked them. But it doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. I'm guessing you know something, though."

"What gave me away?" she asked.

"You smirked a bit as soon as I agreed with you." He passed her while on his way back to the sofa. "I figured that means you think you know something I don't."

She frowned at him. While he came across as nonchalant and uncritical, he didn't lack much in perception, apparently. She hadn't even felt herself smirk. That was disquieting in its own way. "Those two were devils."

He nodded. "Makes sense to me. Ingvild said she'd been attacked by devils. Those guys were probably trying to finish the job. Unless they were different from the people who attacked Ingvild earlier."

"Which is a possibility we have to acknowledge," she said.

"Who does that leave us with?"

"It leaves us stuck between either the current devil government or the Old Satan Faction. If it's the former, then we may be looking at having defied the orders of the four most powerful devils to ever live."

"Which is… bad?"

"For you, yes."

"I'll be sure to quiver appropriately, then." Percy wrapped his arms around himself and pretended to shake in his seat. After a few seconds, he stopped. "There. Anything else we need to be worried about? You said the other option was the Old Satan Faction, right? Who are they?"

"Loyalists to the descendants of the original four Devil Kings. The terms _Devil King _and_ Satan_ are used interchangeably, so try not to get confused."

"Noted. What do you mean the _original_ four?"

Tiamat sighed. She went and sat on the other sofa. "Some centuries ago… the devils fought a civil war. Old Satan Faction against Anti-Satan Faction. The Old Satan loyalists lost, and the Anti-Satan rebels took over the government. The new Satans took on the names of the old ones, using them as titles. Lucifer, Beelzebub, Leviathan, and Asmodeus."

Percy blinked and scratched his eyelid. "So, the Anti-Satan rebels took the names of the old Satans who they'd fought against? Ironic."

Tiamat had to agree, though she knew it was for political stability and appeasing traditionalists. "Yes, I suppose so."

Percy squinted. "You mentioned Leviathan, right? Isn't that—"

"The girl's last name?" Tiamat nodded eagerly. "Yes. It seems as though she is a descendant of the original Leviathan, who was one of the four Satans. The current Satan Leviathan is named Serafall, though her bloodline is tied to the Sitri family of devils, not the Leviathan family."

Counting on his fingers, Percy asked, "Then, if Ingvild is a real descendant of the original Leviathan, why would the Old Satan Faction want to kill her? Shouldn't they be on her side? I'm not exactly a math genius, but something doesn't add up here."

"That's where the complications begin," she said. "The devils' civil war ended in an Anti-Satan victory, true enough, but three descendants of the original Devil Kings still live on and keep the Old Satan Faction united. Those three are—Shalba Beelzebub, Katerea Leviathan, and Creuserey Asmodeus. By itself, that may not say much, but then you have to examine the Old Satan dogma regarding devils as a species."

"Dog-who?"

"Dogma. Simply, a truth set to be unquestioned. Anyway, the Old Satan doctrine sees pure-blooded devils as superior to every other species, except maybe the gods. Humans are practically walking, talking piles of garbage to Old Satan loyalists."

"Nazi devils?" Percy asked, an amused smile springing onto his face.

"Well, I wouldn't call it a very original ideology," she said dryly. "But it's certainly an ideology that would lead to the Old Satan Faction rejecting Ingvild Leviathan. After all, she's part human. She's damaged goods."

Percy went back to frowning. "How is she still alive, then? I mean, _if _the Old Satan Faction or current devil government wants her dead. She's just one girl. How old is Ingvild, anyway? How long has she survived with so many devils after her?"

That was a good observation, Tiamat thought. The girl's naturally immense demonic power would have made her a target from birth. Not just a target for the Old Satan Faction, but also for the most zealous Anti-Satan supporters.

When the Anti-Satan rebels had taken control of the government, outspoken Old Satan loyalists were driven to the fringes of the Underworld. Even if Ingvild Leviathan had no plans to take back her rightful title from the Anti-Satan government, and even if she tried to integrate herself into the devils' society, her name carried significant weight. She was a potential fire-starter.

Anti-Satan extremists would rather see her dead than start a new revolution to topple everything they'd fought for.

Old Satan loyalists would despise her for being a mix of devil and human.

By all accounts, there was no safe place in the Underworld for Ingvild Leviathan. How was she still alive? And how had Tiamat never heard of the girl until just now?

"So, who are we more worried about?" Percy asked. "The current devil government or the Old Satan Faction?"

"The current Devil Kings," Tiamat answered immediately.

Percy clicked his tongue. "Can they control time?"

"No."

He blew out a puff of air from his nose. It sounded mildly amused. "No reason to worry, then."

"Is that so?" she said.

"Yup."

His bouts of arrogance really did stagger her. How could it not? Despite being a demigod, or something similar, he still believed he was a match for everyone and everything. It was almost a little pathetic. A thought crossed her mind as she played back her most recent impression of Percy.

"You move very gracefully," Tiamat said. "When you fight, when you walk, when you talk. The amount of discipline it must take is staggering to even imagine."

"I'm a very disciplined person. You could say I learned from the best."

Tiamat could hear admiration coloring his voice. Curious, she asked, "And who was it that taught you these things?"

"Me."

"Of course." She shouldn't have been surprised. Still, she sighed. "Hubris abound. But how old are you? I've seen people waste decades trying to discipline themselves the way you have. I've seen humans break themselves grasping for what you managed to accomplish."

Percy twisted his wrist. It cracked. "Truthfully, I'm older than I look. I wouldn't say it took decades for me to get to where I am… but it wasn't something that happened overnight." Percy let his head drop on the sofa's backrest while he closed his eyes. He covered his forehead with the back of his hand. "Speaking of happening overnight, what do you think I should do about Ingvild?"

"I can't say. The decision is yours."

"Wow, thanks, that's _really_ helpful."

"I'm not here to make decisions for you."

Percy rubbed his jaw tiredly. "Guess I'll wait until she's awake. I wanna hear her side of the story. Some things make me wonder… Though if we have to fight against Nazi-like devils, I'm all for it. Fascism sucks."

Tiamat had to ask: "Why are you helping the girl? A paranoid person like you doesn't strike me as the philanthropic type."

He hummed. "I'm not that paranoid. I save all of my paranoia for dealing with gods. Demons, monsters, other stuff like that... I find them easier to deal with than gods. More to the point, I save my paranoia for the things that can—and will—try to kill you because you called their Armani suit 'tacky.' Usually, gods fit that bill."

"Devils can be like that too," she pointed out.

"Ingvild didn't strike me as the type of person." Percy lifted one shoulder, mimicking a shrug of indifference. "And if she is, I'll take full accountability and deal with the situation as necessary."

"You would kill her, is what I'm hearing."

Percy flicked his hand at her. "Geez, that's dark, T. I'll do what I think is necessary. It doesn't have to be so morbid."

"I do believe the girl is more powerful than you are."

"I do believe that's a matter of perspective. Depends on how you define _power_. Besides, I don't pay attention to that kind of stuff. _Power_? More like... _flour_, am I right?"

Tiamat stared at Percy. "That didn't even make sense."

"My point: I'm gonna help Ingvild because she reminds me of someone. If worse comes to worst, I'll handle it."

Tiamat scratched her collarbone. Her fingers felt cold against the warm flesh of her chest. "You seem to adapt quickly. That's a good trait to have. But what if more devils come to finish what they started?"

"I'll deal with them."

"Well, I could always put some protections around this place. It will make tracking the girl more difficult."

He cracked his jaw. "What's that gonna cost me?"

Tiamat thought about it. She didn't think he had anything worth giving except Riptide, and there was no way he'd separate with _Riptide_ for this. Though they'd only known each other for a week, that much Tiamat was absolutely certain of. In fact, she didn't think there was anything that Percy would trade Riptide for. So she said, "Nothing. We're partners. Don't partners help each other?"

"Partners... Yeah, I guess you're right," Percy said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Tiamat replied. She stared at him. "I have to say, you've taken the changes in your life very well. Not everybody would grow accustomed to a new reality as quickly as you."

"Not everybody is me."

She narrowed her eyes, amused and annoyed at his half-hearted and brusque answers. "Don't you miss your home?"

Percy didn't say anything for a long time. His mouth formed a thin, tight line, and the fingers of his raised hand twitched. The muscles in his jaw and neck seemed to flex, as if he were holding himself back from yawning or talking.

When he finally did speak, the words came out sharp, if also uneasy: "This is home now."

"What happened to your old home?" Tiamat asked carefully.

He grimaced. "We lost. Prophecy unfulfilled, _thanks for playing! _Time was never on our side."

Tiamat settled herself further into the sofa. "There was a prophecy?"

She knew plenty about prophecies. When the gods had been more active in the mortal world, there had been many prophecies delivered by seers and oracles. Those were simpler times. Nowadays, the power of foretelling the future was diminished a millionfold. Too many variables presented themselves. Too many complications.

Percy sighed quietly. "Tiamat, no offense, but I'm not in the mood to talk about that right now. I'd really just rather go to sleep."

Tiamat didn't want to let the subject drop. She'd probably earned some of Percy's trust by helping him with the girl, and maybe their time spent together in the past week had also done some good.

But it wasn't enough. That much was made clear. Percy was trusting, but not that trusting.

In the end, she didn't have a choice. She dropped it.

"That's fine," she said. "We can talk later."

He blew air out of his mouth, almost whistling. "Cool."

Soon, he'd fallen asleep. Tiamat stood up. She would throw a few protective spells around the apartment before leaving.

On her way to the door, she stopped and turned back to where Percy slept on the sofa.

It was strange, she thought, that he hadn't taken his hand away from his face for the latter half of their conversation.

Not even once.

_If I attacked you now... who would kill who, I wonder?_ Tiamat shook her head. _Even if you aren't a god, Percy, you're arrogant enough for the both of us. You must really hate yourself to walk that line. _

* * *

**Author Note: Thank you for your kind support. **

**Ingvild Leviathan. Again, she hasn't had a lot of screentime. She kind of had some stuff going on in Shin Volume 1 what with Nyx and the Hell God alliance wanting to use her because of her Longinus, but after that, we don't get much. She's softspoken, eager, often sleepy, and gets swept up in the moment easily, is really what I got from volumes 1 and 2. **

**Anyway, for this story, I'm planning on giving her a little more attention. I'm planning on having the next chapter be dedicated to Ingvild's perspective to give her a bit of meat in the story. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Good things should happen to good people… Yeah, you can quote me on that.

-_Quote attributed to Percy Jackson_

* * *

Ingvild felt warm.

A weight settled over the top of her body. It wasn't a heavy weight; there was just enough pressure on her arms, chest, and legs to let her know that she was being covered by something solid and soft.

It was nice.

_Warm. So warm. _

She didn't want to let it go. Under the weight and warmth, she felt safe. So safe.

Then came another weight, one much less pleasant than the first. Even under the lingering haze of sleep, her nose picked up on the dusting of salt and algae that suddenly appeared. And with that, her mind threw open the curtain of sleep in a frenzy.

_I know this smell_, she realized. It was the same thing that had woken her up two weeks ago after being asleep for almost one hundred years.

It was the scent of the ocean.

Her eyes opened, and she found herself in a familiar position.

Two weeks ago, the same thing had happened. After waking up, she'd been confused and in an unfamiliar place.

This time, though, she wasn't resting on a massive four-poster bed with opulent 18th-century furnishings around her.

In fact, the room she now found herself in was much less decorated. The bed was not as large as the one from two weeks ago. Aesthetically, everything around her was simplistic and cold. Very much unlike her room in the Underworld.

One thing did stay the same between her experiences waking in strange places. Namely, when she'd woken up two weeks ago, someone had been by her side as soon as her eyes opened.

This time was no different.

A boy sat on a wheeled chair across from where she lay, his back to a nearly naked desk made of metal and wood. He was looking at her, sea-green eyes carefully trained on her face.

_That's… him._

Ingvild recognized the boy. She remembered those same eyes from when they were gazing down at her, both of them beneath a ring of twisting flames while she bled at the base of a lighthouse.

This was the same boy who had helped her.

Percy. That was his name.

As she continued to observe him, she noticed how… sad he looked. Despite that, he was very handsome, she thought, even when he brooded. His dark hair looked like it had been tousled by the wind.

She puzzled when they both kept their silence.

It slowly dawned on her that, even though he was looking in her direction, he wasn't seeing her. He was looking _through_ her. His eyes might have been on her, but his mind was somewhere else. One of his hands idly fiddled with a bead-filled necklace resting above his collarbone.

His fingers looked lithe and delicate, perfect for a pianist.

Ingvild felt awkward. Her savior sat only ten feet away, melancholic and lost in thought. She assumed that because he was in the room with her, it was his bed she was laying on.

Unfortunately, she couldn't recall what happened after he'd helped her last night.

In fact, she wasn't even sure if it had been last night that they'd met. The disease she suffered from meant sleeping brought the inherent risk of becoming comatose again. For all she knew, it could have been days since he saved her life.

She prayed that wasn't the case.

Not to God, of course. She couldn't pray to God anymore without suffering a sharp migraine.

This wasn't good, Ingvild thought. Her savior sat a scant meter away, apparently disheartened, and all she could do was stare at him while occupying his bed like a useless cadaver.

Could she tell a joke to lighten the mood? Better yet, should she?

The more she thought about it, the more Ingvild doubted she could make him laugh, actually. He seemed like a serious person.

Still, she wanted to do _something_. Now that she was aware of Percy being in the room with her, Ingvild had started feeling… odd. A warmth spread throughout her stomach as she imagined his own thoughts regarding her.

He must have thought she was rude and inconsiderate. He'd gone through the trouble of helping her, and she hadn't done so much as verbally thank him.

Her parents would have been horribly disappointed. She could practically hear her mother lamenting that Ingvild had—_certainly_—not been raised by a tribe of uncultured, uncouth, churlish persons. The words "please," for when she asked something of someone, and "thank you," for when she received something from someone, had been drilled into her since she'd first started talking.

Even now, she couldn't do anything right. She really was useless, wasn't she? Pathetic and useless.

Ingvild shifted under the duvet, moving so that she could lean against the headboard. When she did, Percy's eyes finally focused on her, and his face became… not sad. She wouldn't say he looked happy, but at least he didn't look sad anymore.

"Mornin'," he greeted, giving her a quick two-finger salute.

His eyes were actually gorgeous, Ingvild decided.

"Good morning." Her throat stung fiercely, reminding her of the times she'd caught ill in the past. Phlegm made her voice sound wet and cracked. She shivered at the feeling.

Percy nodded at her. "How are you?"

She touched her throat. "F-Fine."

He raised an eyebrow. His eyes followed her hand. "You don't sound fine."

Ingvild didn't want to show the pain. But as she took a calming breath, the sensation of claws digging into her throat made her wince. Even breathing was too much for her to handle.

"You're looking kinda pale," Percy continued, frowning.

"Just… a little thirsty…" Every word had to tear its way out from her mouth. Her tongue felt like it was made of cotton.

It was too painful. She couldn't pretend otherwise. It hurt too much.

"No kidding? Good thing I thought ahead." He motioned to the nightstand at her bedside. A glass of water with ice waited there. "Take your time."

Ingvild sat up and drank. She drained the glass within a minute.

"Thank you," she said.

Defeat plunged a dagger into her stomach. She was making him worry about her. She was burdening him.

"Sure thing." Percy went to her side. He sat down at the foot of the bed and smiled a small smile. "How are you feeling now?"

"Better. Much better."

Though, not really.

"Good. Would you be all right talking with me for a bit?" Percy put his hands on his knees. His posture was strong. Hale. Confident.

She straightened her spine to copy his poise. When she sat straight, a sharp ache pierced her shoulder, traveling the length of her arm so that even her fingertips buzzed.

"Hey, you okay?"

Ingvild shivered when she felt Percy's hand gently fall onto her shoulder. Even though it wasn't the one that had been injured, she still suppressed a wince. The weight of his hand felt like she'd just been handed the sky and told to hold it.

Her blood was boiling. More than that, she was being pulled toward Percy. Ingvild felt her veins contract and the very water inside of her quiver. It hurt. Not much, but it hurt.

This… couldn't be normal.

Her heart pounded.

"Uh, Ingvild?"

His voice made her snap back to reality. She blinked, shivering as a bolt of blue stabbed her through the heart. "Um… I'm fine… fine…"

"You worried me there," he said, pulling his hand away and unknowingly lifting the burden from her body. "Are you hurting?"

"Just a little." Ingvild tried to focus more on the present. Ever since she'd woken up two weeks ago, her mind had been clouded. It was as if, even though she was awake, there persisted the remnants of a dream—of sleep and of deep tranquility.

Apparently, Percy was only going to clutter her mind even further.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy gave her a look that complimented his skeptical question. He reached for the glass on the nightstand. "Want more water?"

"No, thank you," she said. The water she'd drank earlier hadn't yet settled in her stomach. In fact, it almost came back up when Percy had touched her. "What… What did you want to talk about?"

Percy stopped reaching for the glass. He sat back down, gently, so as to not disturb the bed too much. "Well, when we found you the other day, you weren't looking so good. How'd you end up in that kind of situation? If you don't mind me asking."

Memories of blood and pain sparked a shudder in her body. "We were attacked. They called me… Leviathan… Half-breed filth…"

"The devils called you that?" he asked.

She nodded. "The devils who attacked us."

Percy brought his hand up to his mouth. She flinched, afraid that he would touch her again and convey his immense presence through that contact.

Thankfully, he didn't make any move toward her body. He asked, "Were you with someone else? We didn't find anybody on the island with you, though we didn't really look."

She shook her head slowly. "No. They sent me through a… a magical portal… so that I could escape from the… the devils attacking us."

"Your family sent you?"

Ingvild looked away from Percy. Her heart and throat clenched at the same time. "I don't have a family anymore."

Percy frowned. "What happened?"

She wrinkled her nose to keep the tears at bay. "I… I was asleep for almost a hundred years. My parents died a long time ago. They grew old. I woke up two weeks ago… and that's what they told me."

"Ah, so that's it. Hmm. You keep mentioning _they_…?"

"The people who watched over me," she answered. "They're devils. _I'm_ a devil. I didn't even know devils existed. It's still a little hard to believe."

Percy hummed. "So you were asleep for a hundred years? That sounds serious."

She nodded, still staring at the duvet as it bunched up in her fists. "They say it's an illness only devils can catch. A sleeping illness. One night, a hundred years ago, I'd fallen asleep in my home, my parents had wished me a good rest… and when I woke up… I wasn't even on Earth anymore."

"Were you in the Underworld?"

"Yes. When my parents failed to wake me… they turned to the occult. The devil they contacted took me to an old manor house owned by the first Leviathan."

"Huh. How did they find out you were related to the original Leviathan?"

"I don't know." Ingvild had never even thought to ask.

"Uh-huh. Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go through all that. It must have been hard to deal with," he said, dropping his head with slow nods. "Coming to terms with stuff like that… Not many people understand what it's like."

"Do you understand?" She tore her gaze away from the duvet and looked at Percy.

"I've never been in your exact position. Still, I think I know how you feel."

She didn't know why, but his words only made her angry. A knot had formed in her throat. Thankfully, she managed to keep from saying something rude to Percy.

Only just.

"Anyway, do you know who attacked you?" Percy asked.

She shook her head. "Ulestar said they were from the Old Satan Faction, I think."

"Old Satan Faction, huh? At least we have an idea of what we're up against." Percy idly tapped a finger against his knee. "Do you have somewhere else you can go? A safehouse or something?"

"Not that I know of."

"I see. What about Ulestar? Is he a friend of yours?"

"He's one of the first devils I met when I woke up. I don't know if he survived the attack." Ingvild wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "He opened a… a magic portal for me. He stayed in the Underworld to help the others."

"Do you have some way to get into contact with him? Or maybe with any of the other devils who want to keep you safe?"

"No." Ingvild wished she could have said otherwise. The truth was a hard rock to swallow. She was practically alone now.

Percy rolled his head around a few times, as if doing so would help him think. "All right. Can you tell me what Ulestar looks like?"

"Um… he's tall. He has red hair and red eyes."

"Oh, cool. Yeah, that works. Thanks," he said absently.

She looked at him curiously. "Why do you want to know? Will you be able to recognize him?"

"With those features?" Percy twisted his mouth. "Yeah, anyone would see him coming from a mile away. But I was actually asking because… well…" He frowned, eyes narrowing as he glanced out the window above the nightstand. "The night we met, two devils came looking for you. I had to turn them away. It might have gotten a little violent. Neither of them had red hair. They were probably Old Satan goons."

Ingvild swallowed through the tightness in her throat. "Were you hurt? I'm sorry; I just met you and—and you've already been put into danger because of me."

All she did was burden other people.

The thought made her hands clench. Her fingers felt like they would shatter from the strain.

Her heart pounded.

Percy raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm fine. I've fought giraffes tougher than those guys, so you've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Still, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have been put into danger."

"Don't worry," he said smoothly. "You needed help, so I helped. Not a problem."

She didn't understand. "But… why?"

He stood up and rubbed his jaw. "Did I need a reason? I can't help everybody I come across. Some people have problems that are _way_ beyond my scope. That's why I like to help where I can. It's philanthropy… I think. Or something like that." He looked her up and down apprehensively. "Besides, you remind me of someone I knew."

Ingvild wondered how many people he'd already helped. Of course, she was just one more person he could add to his list, if he were keeping tabs. It really didn't matter that he'd helped her at all. He would have done the same for anybody in her position, right?

The only reason he'd chosen to help was that it was convenient. It only made sense. He was that type of person.

Despite that…

Despite how insignificant she must have been to him… Ingvild was glad he'd been there to save her. She didn't deserve his help—especially not him putting himself in danger for her sake.

Part of her, though, was glad. Selfishly, she was glad he'd saved her.

"Thanks," she said. "You saved my life. I don't know if I can repay you the way you deserve."

"You can definitely repay me," he said.

"How?"

He walked to the nightstand and took the empty glass. "If you ever have the chance to help another person, you should do it. I don't need anything else from you. Just that."

She blinked. "That's it?"

"That's it," he confirmed. "Help make one person's life better, and it'll be enough for me."

Ingvild, recalling the way the mere presence of his hand on her shoulder had relayed his gravitas, doubted in her ability to do what he did. "You… make it sound too easy. But you're incredibly strong, aren't you? I felt it."

"You aren't giving yourself enough credit." Percy shrugged. "A friend of mine tells me you're pretty powerful. She thinks you'll be able to do amazing things. I know I'm putting my faith in you when we're practically strangers, but just from the time we've spent talking, you strike me as a good person. That's why I'm asking you to do this. You can help people, Ingvild. I'm sure you can."

His voice swept over Ingvild, the sheer amount of confidence he was demanding her to acknowledge almost overwhelming. A shiver ran through her; goosebumps prickled her skin.

Something hot swelled within her chest.

_A good person wouldn't let other people put themselves at risk for her sake. _

"I'm… I'm…"

"More than enough," he said. "You're more than enough."

"If that's what you're asking…" Ingvild, galvanized, felt like she'd been filled by some of his vast confidence. Just a bit. It was hard not to feel carried away when he looked at her like _that_—spoke to her like _that_.

He was something else, she realized.

"I'll try."

And despite his confidence leaking into her, all she could muster to respond with was meandering and non-committal.

"Sure. That's the spirit." Percy smiled. This time, his smile seemed a lot more natural. "Thanks."

Ingvild felt like she was curled up beneath the duvet again, warm and content.

She continued to feel that way long after Percy had left the room.

Her heart kept pounding.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Scalding water formed small rivers over Ingvild's skin, spraying her from the showerhead above.

Percy had offered her his bathroom so she could wash the dried grime away. Of course, she'd gratefully accepted his generosity, even though she didn't deserve it.

Ponderously, she ran her fingers over her most grievous wounds from the night before. The only sign she'd ever been injured came in the form of a slightly pale discoloration of her skin on both her shoulder and leg. Given that she was already quite pale, the scars were hardly anything noticeable.

As steam rose and thickened, her thoughts returned to that place in the Underworld, where she'd found herself just a couple of weeks ago.

It had been beautiful—a manor house, two levels of beige and gray stone located only a short trot away from a large lake.

Ingvild had spent the first few days after her awakening relegated to the confines of that manor house. The servants—those bound to the Leviathan bloodline by old loyalties—hadn't allowed her to wander very far, fearing that her health could take a turn for the worst at any moment.

However, once the first week had passed, and once her health had been checked by every physician on the household's payroll, she'd finally been given clearance to go outside.

The most notable difference between the Underworld and Earth was the sky's color. In the Underworld, the sky was never anything but purple. There were no nights. The Underworld was in perpetual daytime, though there was no shining sun in the purple sky. Honestly, she didn't know how it worked.

The lack of a day-and-night cycle had actually caused her some problems at first. She would accidentally spend hours by the lake, lost in a daze, unable to find her bearings with so much happening around her.

Ulestar—the devil who seemed most protective of her—put a stop to that behavior fairly quickly. He'd insisted on teaching her about the new era she'd found herself in.

As it turned out, Ulestar had been preparing such a curriculum for a long time leading up to her awakening.

Not that he'd known when she would wake, or even _if_ she would wake. Nevertheless, he'd prepared, just to be safe.

It was a good thing he had. Ingvild had been in desperate need of clarification, which Ulestar never hesitated to provide.

And just as she'd started growing accustomed to her new status quo, right when she was starting to realize her new normal, the manor house overlooking the lake became a cage of fire and ash, burning around her, falling around her.

Those people she barely even knew fought to defend her from the other devils who attacked the manor house.

Many of them had died. Some, she'd seen die before her very eyes.

Ulestar had remained in the Underworld to keep the other devils from pursuing after he'd sent her through a magic portal.

She wondered if he was still alive. She hoped he was.

Too many people had already died for a person like her. They would never get anything for their sacrifice either, since she'd never learned many of the servants' names. She hadn't even been able to do that for them. Apparently, even that was too much of a task for her to handle.

Her heart pounded: _Boom-boom._

She was the worst kind of person, wasn't she? Despite what others thought, Ingvild knew she was worthless. It made sense. She couldn't do anything.

_"You can help people, Ingvild. I know you can." _

Despite how hot it had become inside the bathroom, a shiver traveled from the base of her neck and spread quickly throughout her body.

Confidence and earnestness… Percy had shown so much of both.

For her, no less.

"I'll try," she whispered. "I'll try."

Ingvild wanted to believe in him. But how could she, when she'd done nothing to earn any of his faith?

_"You're more than enough." _

The words felt bitter and trivial. They were lies, she knew.

What did Percy even _see_ in her? They had just met. They were strangers. All they'd done was talk for less than thirty minutes. She recalled the crushing pressure he'd relayed to her with just his touch.

Why could he put his faith in her to do as he'd asked? How could he have more faith in her than she did in herself?

Ingvild had never done anything to deserve his confidence. Not once. She couldn't remember a single time in her life where she'd done anything exceptional. Even her time in primary school had proven that she was a mediocre pupil.

Nothing about her was worth the effort of helping or protecting.

Yet, people still helped and protected her. They _died _for her. Why was that?

Why?

Why?

Just because of the blood in her veins? How was that fair to people who actually deserved help?

_What am I doing? _She closed her eyes and put her head against the bath's wall. Reaching out, she turned the water control to the left as far as it could go. The scalding water became even hotter as it tore at her face. _I've already gotten Percy attacked. He's in danger with me around. I shouldn't be here. _

All she'd ever done was burden other people. She was worse than worthless.

_"Thanks."_

Bile rose in her throat. That word… Percy's smile…

It was all too much. Too much, too fast. Her parents, her life, a hundred years, her protectors… Percy… everything… all for her… all for_ her_. But why? Why was it her? Why did it have to be her?

_"You strike me as a good person." _

Again, his words felt like a punch in her gut. The memory of his confidence filtered into her.

And she remembered the confidence she'd felt. Though it was secondhand confidence, Ingvild suddenly didn't want to let go of it.

Her heart pounded and pounded.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Ingvild was drying herself with a towel Percy had provided when she heard a knock on the bathroom door. She glanced toward the sharp noise, just about to venture a question when, suddenly, the door was pushed open. She had barely covered her body with the towel when a blue-haired woman walked into the bathroom carrying a bundle.

The two of them looked at each other for a second before the woman spoke.

"Awake and alive, I see," she said. Her voice was like something out of a fairy tale: that was the only way Ingvild could describe or imagine it. That was the only place a voice like hers could even exist.

"Yeah…" Ingvild awkwardly glanced to the side. If she remembered right, this woman had been with Percy when they'd found her. "Um, thanks for helping me. The potion you gave Percy probably saved my life."

The woman raised a condescending eyebrow. "Probably? There are no two ways about it. You would have died if not for those counterfeit Phoenix Tears. That's reality."

"Right." She shuffled in place, as thrown by the woman's attitude as she was by her sudden appearance in the bathroom. The mat beneath her had started to soak through. "I don't think I can repay you for—"

"Maybe you can't, maybe you can," the woman said abruptly. "It doesn't matter. Those fake Phoenix Tears are hardly worth a debt to someone like me. Besides, I doubt you'd have anything to offer. Percy told me about your extenuating circumstances. Collecting from you would be cruel."

Ingvild swallowed a bitter torrent of spit. "He told you?"

"He did. Not that you had to hide it. Not from me, at least."

"Oh." The truth was that Ingvild hadn't been planning on hiding it. Her disappointment only came from the fact that Percy had gone ahead and told someone else without asking her if she would be fine with it.

But maybe this was for the best. Keeping secrets from people would only end up hurting them in the long run, right?

"Ah, yes. I should introduce myself." The woman casually flicked her hand out in a gesture of greeting. "I am Dragon King Tiamat, greatest of the five. Well-met, Ingvild Leviathan."

Dragon King? Ingvild wasn't sure what a Dragon King was, but it sounded important. More than that, it sounded dangerous.

She dipped her head a bit. "It's nice to meet you."

"I'm sure it is. That aside, I've brought you some clothes." Tiamat set the bundle down on top of the vanity.

"Oh. Thanks." Ingvild was starting to feel overwhelmed by the support she was getting. She'd already been overwhelmed just a few minutes ago, and now more people were helping her.

It didn't make sense.

"These are my clothes, by the way. Please try not to ruin them."

"I won't," Ingvild promised.

"Good. I'll leave you to get dressed, then." Tiamat gave Ingvild a lingering look, then left the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Ingvild waited for a few heartbeats before letting herself relax. She sifted through the bundle of clothes, finding a skirt, a blouse, and underwear, but no stockings or socks. Still, she quickly pulled the clothes onto herself, grateful to be in something other than the blood-and-mud soaked mess that her previous dress had become.

Taking a final glance at herself in the long mirror mounted to the wall, she breathed deeply, hoping to steady her anxieties from building into something uncontrollable. After a few seconds, she nodded firmly and walked out of the bathroom.

And as if the world was trying to beat her down, she walked right into Percy, who had been passing through the hallway at that particular moment.

She jerked away from him as soon as their shoulders touched. Her back hit the wall hard. His gravitas hadn't pressed down on her.

"Woah," Percy hadn't reacted apart from raising one eyebrow. "You all right there, Ingvild? Looks like someone just zapped you with a cattle prod."

"I'm fine." She shook her head twice. "Sorry, I didn't see you."

"Same." He looked her up and down. "You're looking... better."

"Thanks for letting me use your shower."

"Don't mention it. Everyone deserves to feel clean. I'm pretty sure that's a basic human right or something."

She rubbed her arm. He coughed awkwardly.

"That was supposed to get at least a chuckle," he said quietly.

"Sorry. Um... haha?"

Percy shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment. Anyway, I had a few more things I forgot to ask earlier."

"What kind of things?" Ingvild tried to sound calm, but inside, she imagined what he would say. Already frazzled, she shifted, the cold hardwood floor striking needles into the soles of her feet. She knew his generosity could only extend so far. It wasn't fair to him if she kept taking from him without offering something in return.

The problem was that she didn't have anything to offer.

"Come on, we can talk about it over lunch," Percy said, gesturing for her to follow. He led her to the kitchen.

Dragon King Tiamat was already sitting at the kitchen's lone rectangular island, finishing the remains of a sandwich. Percy made a clucking noise with his tongue. "Tiamat, I asked you to wait for us."

The woman shook her head and threw the last bite into her mouth. She smacked her lips a few times. "You took too long. Mmm. This was quite good. Seconds?"

"Not for free."

"Shame."

Percy went over and sat in the stool beside Dragon King Tiamat. Ingvild followed, sitting beside him so that they formed a row of three. She looked at the plated sandwich in front of her. It seemed benign. The scent of meat and cheese made her mouth water.

Using the corner of her eye, she watched as Percy practically inhaled his own sandwich. How he was able to chew so fast was beyond her; how he didn't choke amazed her.

_I really am surrounded by incredible people, _she thought.

"What's wrong?" Percy asked, startling her. He pointed at her still-untouched sandwich. "You haven't even started. Are you allergic?"

"No," Ingvild quickly moved to assuage him. She scooped up the sandwich and, without standing on ceremony, took a large bite. Much larger than she normally would have, especially given that she was in another person's company.

"Don't force yourself for my sake," Percy said, one eyebrow arched, watching Ingvild skeptically.

Ingvild chewed and swallowed. The big chunk of meat, cheese, and bread barely made it down her throat. "It's good. Thanks."

"No problem." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So, I know it's in bad taste for me to ask, but I'm wondering what your plans are, Ingvild."

Plans? Ingvild realized she hadn't thought so far ahead. For the most part, she'd been focused on other things. A mistake, for sure. "I'm not too sure."

Tiamat spoke up, leaning into the island so she could make eye contact. "You'd best find something to be sure about soon. If you don't, we'll have wasted our efforts with you."

Percy cleared his throat sharply. "What she's trying to say is... you're in a tough spot. Look, I don't think sugarcoating it will do you any good. Ingvild, you can either fight or you can die. The second option is easy. The first is a lot harder, but it's also more rewarding. Possibly."

"I... don't think I want to die," Ingvild said slowly.

In no way did she have the right to die. Not after receiving the support she had. It wouldn't be fair to all those people who had gone through the trouble of helping her.

"I'm glad to hear that," Percy said, sounding relieved. "I'm willing to offer advice, though I can only talk from my personal experiences. Your mileage may vary."

"I think I need advice," Ingvild admitted.

"Well, from my experience, the best thing to do is to take action." He rubbed his jaw pensively. A frown crawled onto his face. "I was in a similar situation a long time ago. There were these two gods who thought I stole something important. Of course, I didn't steal it, but they wanted me to hand it over regardless. Both of them wanted to kill me."

Ingvild blinked numbly. "What did you do?"

"Got a couple of friends to join me on a cross-country road trip to find the entrance of the Underworld. Turns out the whole thing was a conspiracy by an ancient evil to overturn the established world order for personal gain. I'd been framed so the gods would start World War III." Percy nodded. "Those were simpler times."

"Did you die?" Tiamat asked.

"Surprisingly, no."

"Not even a little?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. How drab."

Percy crossed his arms. "Look, maybe going to the Underworld is a common thing around these parts, but where I'm from, even gods stay away from the Underworld. Only Hades and his entourage hang out down there. _Papa H and the Funky Bunch_, some people call them."

Tiamat snapped her fingers. "So your Underworld is our Netherworld. For some reason, I want to say that's a very topical revelation."

"Um... what kind of action should I take?" Ingvild asked, hoping to move back to the topic they'd originally been on.

"Good question," Percy said, tapping his finger by her plate. "That's something you have to figure out. I can't make those kinds of decisions for you."

Ingvild thought about what Percy had said earlier. She thought about what she could do.

_"You can help people, Ingvild. I know you can."_

She thought back to the lakeside manor house she'd been living in for the past two weeks. When they'd been attacked, she hadn't been able to act. The devils protecting her had died because of that. The house had burned.

As much as she wanted to believe in Ulestar, Ingvild couldn't help but think he was also dead.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she asked quietly. "I don't want to die. I'll take action." She looked at Percy. "But I don't know how. Will you help me learn?"

"I can only do so much in that department. What you're asking for is a new frame of mind. Hard stuff to change. It takes time. That said, having some confidence goes a long way."

"Confidence? Can you learn how to be confident?"

Percy's wry, stilted half-smile spoke volumes.

* * *

**Author Note: Big thanks to everyone for supporting the story. **

**Ingvild: 17-year-old girl falls asleep one night then wakes up in a totally different era, one century later, her friends and family dead, separated from the culture she'd grown attached to, learns she's now a devil, and is hunted by a shady organization. That's a recipe for trauma if I've ever heard one. She doesn't have to vocalize how the pressure affects her, but mentally it would probably be at least a _bit_ tough. **

**Am I straying too far from her dandere appeal? Or maybe Ishibumi pulled a fast one on me, and her dandere appeal stems from introversion due to PTSD. **

**In the novels, Ingvild apparently suffers from some memory loss after waking up, which might explain why she's able to emotionally detach herself from the stuff that's happened to her. Maybe the translation is making it hard for me to grasp exactly what she's feeling. She does seem to (possibly) dissociate by saying she feels like "the present time was just a dream." **

**If you have thoughts on the subject, I'd like to hear them. It might help me see something I'm missing. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Sometimes, all it takes is looking into a mirror for us to realize what our lives have amounted to. Some people might not be ready for that kind of weight.

_-Quote attributed to Michael, Overseer of Heaven_

* * *

"Confidence? Can you learn how to be confident?" Ingvild asked.

Percy stretched his hands above his head. "Of course you can. It'll take some time, but there's nothing that says you can't learn how to be more confident."

He hadn't always been as confident as he was today. It took serious conscious effort to pull off, but in the end, it practically paid for itself.

And despite what Tiamat liked to say, he wasn't arrogant. Just because he was confident didn't mean he was arrogant.

Gods were arrogant. Percy wasn't a god. In other words, he wasn't arrogant. Simple math. It all added up. It didn't take a genius to see that.

Arrogant people didn't learn from their mistakes. Percy did learn.

One of the most important things he'd learned had been rolling with the punches as they came. It was probably the only thing that kept him from going crazy after so long… after dying more times than he could count…

Tiamat had been right, in a sense. Adapting quickly was a good trait to have. Percy thought he was pretty good at adapting. All half-bloods who lived to be his age had to learn how to adapt.

That wasn't to say he couldn't be surprised by things, though. Arriving in this timeline at all had surprised him. It was different from the other timelines he'd been shown. For starters, this place had angels. And capital "G" God.

The Greek gods were alive in this timeline, too.

He wasn't sure how to feel about that. He almost thought they were better off dead and gone.

And if they were alive, he also had to consider the possibility that the Titans were still alive in this timeline. With everything he'd already done to get rid of them, it was annoying to think that they could be a threat again. Michael hadn't known about the status of most of the Titans, though he was sure Kronos was still being jailed by Tartarus, which hardly gave Percy much peace of mind.

Percy wanted to puke just thinking about Kronos.

His hand curled around Riptide's phantom handle.

After fighting him for so long…

After seeing Backbiter kill so many people…

After dying so many times…

He was finally free of Kronos. No more war, no more Typhon, no more dead cities.

It was over.

Finally over.

Kronos was dead.

This timeline's Kronos wasn't his timeline's Kronos. The Titan Lord wouldn't escape Tartarus.

Percy repeated that to himself every day. Gods, he probably sounded like Zeus.

But just knowing that Kronos was alive made him feel like he was short of breath. His nerves sparked with anxious energy at the thought. Whenever he thought about Kronos, he felt like he was on the verge of throwing up. He slept because he needed to sleep, but his dreams were filled with memories of that blood-stained scythe.

_Scythes…_

Gods, he hated scythes.

Gods, he absolutely _loathed _scythes.

He dreamed of scythes. He hated scythes.

He hated Kronos. He hated the Titans. He may even have hated the gods themselves.

Things would be different in this timeline. He didn't know why he was here, but he knew things would be different—they had to be. If he had to do it all over again…

Well, he didn't think he could.

_Scythes…_

It was a good thing he had other things to focus on these days. The constant danger he felt from being around Tiamat grounded him, taking away the anxiety when things got too quiet.

Tiamat was the kind of god he could handle. She was dangerous, but she wasn't evil. Not from what he'd seen.

Focusing on Ingvild would also help. If he kept himself occupied, he wouldn't think about scythes and screams. His stomach would twist less, and his blood wouldn't boil as much.

Hopefully.

Percy glanced at Tiamat from the corner of his eye. With just a look, anybody would be able to tell she was just a bit different. Her blue hair fell to her chest, dark near the roots and turning lighter as it went along, impossibly photo-perfect at any given moment. Not a single strand ever seemed out of place. Ever. To boot, her skin didn't have a trace of aging or scars. No noticeable lines or wrinkles. Nothing.

It was odd. She managed to avoid the uncanny valley, though just barely.

Even the gods from his home appeared more human than her. Maybe it was because she was a dragon _and_ a god. A dragon-god? God-dragon? Dragod?

Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he'd met a dragod.

He wasn't overly impressed. She gave him vibes similar to some of the gods back home. Apparently, she could transform into a real dragon—one with scales and claws and stuff—but rarely did in the human world. It was a choice, she liked to say.

Well, Percy hadn't really been surprised about that, either.

"Will… Would you be willing to…" Ingvild wrung her hands in front of her plate, eyes darting between him, Tiamat, and the small piece of her sandwich still left.

Percy looked at her. She, like Tiamat, could easily turn heads. Lilac colored hair and copper-orange eyes weren't exactly the norm in New York… or anywhere else in the world, for that matter. People would assume she was wearing special contacts and dyed her hair. Maybe they would think she was a cosplayer.

He honestly felt bad for her. She'd lost her family, friends, home—practically everything—twice over in such a short period. The past two weeks of her life must have been a living nightmare.

Maybe that's why he trusted her more than he trusted Tiamat. He'd been in Ingvild's shoes before. She was handling it really well, he thought. Much better than he had. Listening to her talk earlier, Percy had to admit, she had done a good job of pretending her life wasn't going terribly.

She lacked self-esteem, though. From the way she talked to the way she avoided looking at him, it was obvious that she didn't have a high opinion of herself or her abilities.

Ingvild definitely reminded him of himself at a younger age. She also reminded him too much of the younger demigods at camp. Some of the newest campers had stories similar to hers. Some of their stories were worse.

When it came down to it, Ingvild was kind of like a half-blood too.

"Sure," he said, already knowing the rest of her question, saving her the trouble of asking. "I can show you a few of my secrets."

"You will?" Ingvild looked hopeful, if also somewhat reluctant.

He didn't know what that was about. Maybe she had gotten cold feet. Or buyer's remorse.

"I can't promise fast results, or any results, really, but I can give it a shot." Percy had poached his fair share of nuggets of wisdom from Chiron. He was sure Ingvild could use a couple of them at this point. He channeled his inner mentor and said, "Really, it all comes down to your frame of mind. I can tell you how to do things, but if you don't want to do them, then it's kinda like spinning your wheels in the mud."

"Oh," Ingvild said. She worried her lip for a second. Then for another second. And then for a third and a fourth. The kitchen became awkwardly quiet. "What do I need to do?"

"For now… we'll play it by ear. Experience taught me everything I know in a practical sense."

"You mean the journey you took to the Underworld?" Ingvild asked. Her usual way of talking made it sound like she was in a daze half the time. She spoke slowly and usually did her best to break eye contact after only a second.

Percy smiled ruefully. "It took a lot longer than that. Let me tell you a secret," he said, gesturing with his fingers for her to get closer. He leaned in, and, whispering loud enough for Tiamat to hear, said, "I was only twelve when I went to the Underworld. Not exactly an age where most people would be confident doing just about anything."

Ingvild leaned back. "You were only twelve?"

"Really tells you a lot about the gods from my neck of the woods, huh? Trust me when I say it was zero percent fun. And I didn't suddenly have a bunch of confidence after the whole thing was said and done." Though, Percy would admit it was hard not to feel good after knocking Ares down a peg.

"If something like that can't make you confident, what can?"

"Well, that was just one thing. And I never said it didn't make me a little more confident. I just wasn't bursting at the seams. Like, I wasn't ready to ask a girl out on a date, but I was able to order my own food at Burger King… that kind of change."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"I'm glad you think so. Some people don't get it."

"I don't get it," Tiamat said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't expect a god to understand. Or a dragon for that matter."

Tiamat pointed at his chest. "Your prejudice is showing again. While I might not be as inclined to take offense, some other gods are much less forgiving."

"Yeah, I know. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"Then why do I end up reminding you every day?"

"Why don't you ask yourself that at night from now on?"

Tiamat snorted. "Bold of you to sass me."

"Anyway," he looked back at Ingvild, "it takes time to change your frame of mind and really become confident. Earlier, I think I made them sound like they were two totally different things, but they're not. Plus, you can be confident in other people, while also not being very self-confident. Not exactly ideal, but not the worst thing in the world."

Ingvild took a while to mull that over. "I think I understand. So I should be self-confident and have confidence in other people?"

"Exactly!" Percy nodded his head eagerly, glad he was getting through to her. "That's exactly what I'm saying. It's great to have self-confidence, but if you don't give other people your confidence, it becomes a lot harder to trust them."

"Is that personal experience I hear coloring your tone?" Tiamat asked.

"I've met a lot of gods," he said with a shrug.

"Are you implying something?"

Ingvild made a contemplative noise in the back of her throat. She twisted around to look out the farthest window from where they sat. There wasn't much to look at since right across the way was a massive office building, but she stared all the same.

"Trusting people…" she lowered her eyes to her lap, where she worried at her fingers. "This is all a little complicated, huh?"

Percy and Tiamat glanced toward each other surreptitiously. Percy thinned his mouth. "Yeah, it is. No two ways about it. It'd be easier if we could do everything ourselves, but, uh, that's not how the world works. Even the biggest villains have minions."

She looked back at him. "Who do you trust?"

Percy frowned. "I trust Michael. I trust you. I trust... Well, I kind of trust Tiamat."

Beside him, Tiamat swept her hair away from her eyes. "And yet, we're still maligned."

"I wouldn't knock back drinks with you if I didn't trust you at least a little," Percy reasoned. Getting drunk with gods wasn't something he did often.

In fact, he'd only done it with Tiamat.

"Trust is important," Percy told Ingvild, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. "That's the long and short of it. Confidence and trust go hand-in-hand. And they'll both go a long way in keeping you alive."

"But those two things alone a life don't save," Tiamat said. "You'll need the ability to keep yourself safe until the Old Satan loyalists decide you aren't worth their attention or they die. Knowing them, it's likely to be the latter before the former." She nodded at Ingvild. "Unless you expect Percy to keep you safe for the rest of your life, I'd suggest learning how to use your power."

Ingvild brushed a few strands of stray hair away from her face. "I don't know how to use my power. Or what my power even is."

"You are a descendant of the Leviathan. That means your specialty will be Sea Serpent of the End. It is a form of water conjuration and manipulation at the ultimate level." Tiamat gave the girl a sharp smirk. Her dark eyes took on a blazing gleam. "You fit perfectly with this team. Fate has seen fit to draw us together. Its last irrational act was to have us meet. I wonder why that is?"

"Let's focus on the here and now," Percy said.

"Well," Tiamat scrunched her eyebrows, "apart from your specialty, you have immense stores of demonic power, which means you'll be able to cast a great deal of magic." She held up her hands, one filled with a flickering mass of flames and the other crackled with electricity. "While water will be a great ally, other types of magic will provide you with unparalleled utility. Translocation, wards, rejuvenation, communication; these are all essential fields of magic for any devil worth their salt."

"That's… a lot to learn," Ingvild noted.

"The final thing we should touch on is more a theory of mine than anything concrete." Tiamat knocked on the countertop with her knuckles. The sound that followed was dull. "I think you have a Sacred Gear within you—an item of power created by Yahweh."

Percy wasn't an expert when it came to Christian mythology, but he was sure Yahweh was the name of the Christian god. Or God.

Religion was all a little confusing.

"An item of power? From God?" Ingvild gave herself a once-over. She stared at her hands, opening and closing them a few times before shaking her head. "Are you sure? Why would God give me a… a Sacred Gear?"

"Give you? He hasn't _given_ you anything. He can't. From what I know, there are a limited number of Sacred Gears, and they are randomly—_exclusively_—distributed to humans at birth. The system was Yahweh's little brain-child, created to give humans a fighting chance against monsters looking to harm them."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Hey, that's a good idea."

"It hasn't lived up to expectations," Tiamat said.

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me."

"There are too many humans and too few Sacred Gears," Tiamat said. "Not to mention, in the past, people would often use their Sacred Gears in order to further their own goals instead of defending humanity as a whole. Despots, nobles, warriors, hedonists, humans all."

Percy felt like he was starting to get a better grasp of the big picture. "So, they're weapons."

"Many are," Tiamat said with a short nod. "Not all, but many."

"How do I have a Sacred Gear, though?" Ingvild asked, wringing her hands on the countertop. "I'm a devil. If only humans are supposed to have Sacred Gears…"

Tiamat spread her arms and shrugged slowly, shaking her head with a small smile. "To be blunt, Yahweh's death proved many things. Astounding arrogance. He must have either had unwavering confidence in his system, or he believed himself above death." She laughed cruelly. "And people still consider him infallible. Propaganda, I tell you."

Ingvild blinked dumbly for a few seconds. She pushed her seat away from the island, letting the legs screech against the hardwood. Percy winced. He didn't want to know what the deposit was for a place like this. Honestly, he really didn't.

"I thought... God couldn't die." Ingvild glanced between Tiamat and Percy in quick succession.

"He already has," Tiamat said. "Yahweh has been dead for a thousand years."

"That's… really?"

"Yes."

"Really?" The girl looked at Percy, perplexed.

He frowned thoughtfully. "Gods can die," he said carefully. "If it's alive, it can die. Gods aren't an exception. Some of them might reform, but it doesn't always happen. Maybe he'll come back since Christianity is such a big deal."

Tiamat snorted. "Don't put any eggs in that basket."

Ingvild let out a long breath. She slid out of her seat and put a hand to the side of her head. "I'm sorry… I'd like to… I'd like to lie down…"

Percy got up as well. "Sure, no problem. You can use my bed again if you want to." She gave him a grateful nod and started to shuffle off. "You need help?"

"No," she said quickly, "I'll be fine. Thank you."

With that, she left the kitchen, turning the corner into the hall leading to his bedroom.

Percy glanced at Tiamat. "You think she'll be okay?"

Tiamat sucked a hissing breath through her teeth. "Yes, I think so. You don't seem so surprised to learn about Yahweh's death; however, I can't imagine Michael telling you such a closely guarded secret."

"That's because he didn't," Percy said.

"Then you must never have been a follower of the faith," she said. "Or maybe… the reality you came from doesn't have the Abrahamic religions?"

"No. It was as popular back home as it is here. God was a pretty big deal," he said. "I don't think I ever believed in him, though. Other gods existed, but God? I doubt he was ever alive. Either that or…"

"An interesting thought."

Percy jerked his head noncommittally. He glanced at the hallway branching from the kitchen. "I didn't know devils could be practicing Christians."

"Normally, they can't. Entering sacred places such as churches will weaken or hurt them, praying will cause them pain, crosses will burn into their skin."

"Just going off of her reaction, Ingvild seems like a devout Christian."

"Maybe she was raised as a typical Christian before she was taken to the Underworld. It lends itself to my atavism theory."

"I'm just gonna pretend I know what that is."

"The beauty of the Internet is that you can learn just about anything with it," Tiamat said blandly. She glanced at the ceiling. "I doubt Michael would appreciate you having this knowledge. Yahweh's death is still a sore subject for Heaven. You are in a very select group of humans who know about this."

_So God is just another dead god. I guess Gabriel slipped up a bit back then, _he thought, remembering how the angel had referred to God in the past tense. _That makes a lot more sense now. If he was alive, he probably would have met me himself when I smashed the walls of Zebel. _

He knew Michael and Gabriel had good reasons to keep quiet about the whole thing. He didn't have the right to feel offended. It was a two-way street they had going. Percy hadn't given them much reason to trust him in the first place.

All said, he actually felt bad. Michael and Gabriel seemed like good people.

Michael, especially, had gone out of his way to help settle Percy into starting a new life in this timeline. He had given Percy an apartment, documents to prove his American citizenship, a fake high school diploma, and money for food and some other things to make his life a little less stressful.

"Have you ever been disillusioned? Like her? Has it ever hurt like that?" Tiamat asked.

He looked at her.

She was looking right at him.

"A disciplined person like you must have handled it exceptionally well," she continued.

"Is that supposed to be sarcasm?"

"I'm only trying to understand you more," Tiamat said. She tilted her head toward the hallway. "Seeing her struggle with a truth you and I are already privy to made me wonder." Her eyebrows rose. Her face became expectant. "Did you ever experience something like that?"

"Don't we both know the answer to that? You're a smart dragod. I wouldn't put it past you to have it all figured out by now."

She chuckled, running a finger just under her eyebrow. "I'm flattered that you think so. Of course, I have figured it all out, but it's flattering nonetheless, and I wouldn't be opposed to hearing more praise from you." Her smile canted into something caught halfway between annoyance and amusement. "Though I'd prefer it if you never called me a _dragod_ ever again."

"No promises there."

"Tragic." Tiamat leaned on the countertop. Her finger _tap-tap-tapped_ against the luxurious granite. It was clockwork. _Tap-tap-tap. _Somehow, it was loud enough to echo. It only stopped when Tiamat stepped away from the island. "I think I'll take the girl as my pupil. It's been too long since I last taught somebody, immortal or no."

He balked at hearing that. It was hardly his place to argue. If Ingvild wanted to be taught by Tiamat, that was her own thing. Still, he asked, "What's the catch?"

Tiamat kept her skewed smile, though it became less annoyed and more amused. "You want to keep her safe, yes? For your own inexplicable reasons, you—"

"Don't pretend that I didn't already give you my reason," Percy said.

"You really feel so strongly about it?" Tiamat asked skeptically.

"Yeah."

"Then you'll have no problem allowing the girl to remain with you while I educate her. You be her home, and I'll be her school."

"You're right," he said, gathering the empty plates still on the counter. "I don't have a problem with that. Actually, that's a really good idea."

"Huh?" Tiamat raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think you would agree so quickly. Or so eagerly."

Percy let his hand briefly wander to the outline of his pen. His hand curled around Riptide's phantom handle. "We can't expect gods to do all the work. Besides, it doesn't sound like she has anywhere else to go. Not unless that Ulestar guy pops up."

"Which is doubtful at this point," Tiamat said.

"Exactly."

"She could be dangerous."

"_You're_ dangerous. I still hang out with you, don't I?"

Though, one of the reasons he did was because, when they'd first met, he had checked whether or not he could control the water inside of her. Just like he had done with Ingvild. In both cases, he could.

Just a precaution, of course.

"Perhaps it is the same for both of us, then," Tiamat said. "You must pity her just as much as I do. Maybe you pity her more."

"Maybe," he said.

"It's settled then. This is a good deal, isn't it?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were reading my mind."

"Who's to say that I'm not?"

"If you were reading my mind, you'd already have rubbed my nose in it. That's the typical M.O. for you godly types."

"Yes, I suppose you're right." Tiamat shot him a smirk. It was sharp, and he didn't care for the gleam of fire in her eyes. "You know us so well. You have it all figured out, don't you? It must be because, deep down, you're like us. Anomaly or no, you're also part god. Isn't that right? You are a demigod."

Percy's skin crawled. "I don't remember ever telling you that I was a demigod," he said. "So, why do you know?"

"How did you know I was a god when we first met?"

He carefully set the dirty plates in the sink and pushed up his sleeves before running some warm water. "To be fair, I didn't know you were a god. I just knew you were powerful."

"Through a gut instinct, I believe you called it. In other words, it was your sixth sense, correct?"

"Guess you could call it that," Percy said noncommittally.

"It was the same for me," she said. "When I saw you, I saw the smolder of godhood. Human and divine. You are god-born; a human demigod. It had been a long time since I last met one of your kind."

That made sense, Percy figured. He didn't have the kind of intuition gods and monsters did, though it was better than normal humans. "Well, I can't really get mad if that's the case. Just do me a favor and keep it to yourself. I don't like advertising myself as a half-blood to just anybody."

"Just to specific people?" Tiamat asked.

"Pretty much."

"Am I specific now?"

"Pretty much."

She grinned indulgently and glanced at the digital clock displayed on the kitchen range. "Well, I'll get out of your hair for now."

"Leaving so soon?" he asked. She had arrived only a few hours ago, just before Ingvild had woken up.

"I have some business in the Underworld to attend later in the afternoon."

"So you're just gonna let me be the one to break the news to Ingvild, huh?" Percy turned off the water and set the cleaned plates into the dishwasher. "Typical god."

"Learning how to delegate tasks to those more suited is a skill you might want to learn," Tiamat said. She flicked her fingers at him in a vague gesture of goodbye. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow. We can talk about the logistics of our team then."

Percy dried his hands. "Sure. I'll be holding my breath."

Tiamat only rolled her eyes before teleporting away in a flash, the blue mandala disappearing a second after she did.

Strange as it was to think… maybe she knew him better than he'd thought.

It became creepier the more he thought about it.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Kronos was dead.

Percy had killed him.

Kronos was dead.

Percy was safe.

Kronos was dead.

Percy had won.

None of that felt like it was true. Despite having the presence of mind to know it _was_ true, Percy still felt like it wasn't. Maybe it had never been true. Or maybe it had been true at one point but wasn't true anymore.

After so many years…

Despite all that fighting…

Because with every timeline…

The nightmares followed him.

If he didn't need to sleep, he wouldn't. If it were up to him, he would never close his eyes. Sometimes, even blinking brought memories of a falling scythe.

And Percy hated scythes.

In his nightmares, there were always scythes.

And sometimes those nightmares felt real. Backbiter often bit into his back, striking the place opposite his navel. The searing touch of celestial bronze and tempered steel quickly turned into a cold embrace.

Again and again, beneath rain and sun and snow, it came for him.

Percy died again and again in his nightmares.

In reality, his nightmares were actually just memories.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Percy woke up to the sound of music and a burning sting behind his eyes.

He pulled his head off the spine of the sofa and groaned at the stiffness gripping his neck. The scent of something cooking and the airy huff of the range's overhead fan made him look into the kitchen.

Ingvild stood in front of the range, facing away from him. She moved to the pantry and scratched her head as she stared at the contents. She pulled out a few plastic containers of spice, then went right on back to the range, where a light waft of steam rose from two pans.

The TV was still playing in the background. He'd fallen asleep watching something. He couldn't remember what it was he'd been watching. He stood up and walked to the kitchen.

As he got closer, the sound of music filtered through the whirring of the range hood. A soft, lilting hum dragged silken sheets across his brain.

He could almost _see_ the song as Ingvild continued to hum it.

"You could have woken me up to make dinner," Percy said.

The girl almost jumped in surprise. She spun around, fisting the front of her blouse tightly. "I… I was only…"

Percy held his hands up to placate her. "I'm not angry or anything. Actually, I appreciate that you went through the trouble. Whatever you're making smells a lot better than anything I can whip up."

"Well… there was some meat in the refrigerator… I hope you don't mind that I used your food." She glanced at the pans on the stovetop. Inside was a mix of ground beef and vegetables.

Stomach growling, Percy said, "Nah, I don't mind. You look like you know what you're doing. How long ago did you wake up?"

Ingvild shrugged a little. "Not very long."

"Hm. Need any help?"

She shook her head. "Everything is almost ready. The potatoes just need a few more minutes."

"I'll grab the plates then."

Once it was all done, he watched as Ingvild served. He took the full plates to the living room and set them down on the coffee table.

"Want something to drink?" he asked once she sat down.

"Um… water, please."

"Sure." He filled a glass for her and grabbed a cola for himself, then went back and planted himself next to her on the sofa. "We probably shouldn't be eating on fancy furniture like this, but you've gotta admit, these are way more comfy than the stools at the island."

Ingvild nodded. They ate quietly.

Having company was nice, Percy decided. Even if that company was someone like Tiamat, it was still nice. When it was a kind girl like Ingvild, though, it was much nicer.

The food was also really, really good. A little spicier than he'd expected, but good regardless. Actually, the heat was probably what brought the whole thing together.

It definitely tasted better than anything he'd ever made from scratch.

"I didn't know animals like that existed," Ingvild said. She was looking at the TV, which was now showing the everyday life of giraffes in the African savannah.

"Giraffes are pretty cool. Some of them know martial arts, which can be a pain to deal with, but—they're cool for the most part."

"It has such a long neck… and it's so tall…" She continued to wonder at the screen. A hint of wistfulness clouded her face. "I guess a lot of people would know about giraffes these days."

"Probably," Percy agreed. "Anybody with access to the Internet can learn almost anything they want. Used to be you had to go to, like, a library or something."

"I heard about the… er… Internet and computers while I was in the Underworld."

"Ever use them?" he asked.

"No. I was curious, but we didn't have any in the manor."

Percy jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "I've got one in my room. I can show you what's what if you want."

"That sounds like it would be useful," she said gratefully. "There is still a lot for me to learn, I think. I suppose I'd like to learn more about what became of my home."

That made sense. He'd wanted to do the same thing after arriving in this timeline.

After so long… it was strange living in New York again. It was strange…

He could hardly believe this was his life now.

It didn't feel real.

It didn't feel right.

Reality told him he'd won, but in his dreams, he could still win for _real_.

Kronos was dead.

Percy had won… hadn't he?

The husk of his city begged to argue.

The dead begged to argue.

The sound of his fork scraping against the bottom of the plate made him frown.

He'd already finished his dinner… When had that happened? He blinked, already feeling tired again. The naps he took never seemed to give him a lot of energy. It was probably why he took so many in the first place.

"That song you were humming earlier," Percy said, "was really nice."

Ingvild tore her attention away from the TV. Her eyes widened in surprise for just a second before drooping again in their typical fashion. "I… I think it's a nice song too. My mother used to sing it to me… a long time ago."

"Ah." Percy rubbed his hands together. "I don't think I ever asked where you were from, did I?"

"I'm from a town called Bergen." Somehow, for some reason, she'd gained a noticeable accent when she said _Bergen_, giving the _r_ a short trill.

Percy scratched his chin. "Bergen? Where is that? Germany? Iceland?"

"It's in Norway, on the western side."

Well, he hadn't been too far off. "Norwegian, huh? That's pretty cool. When did you learn English? The only time I heard an accent was when you said _Bergen_. You're crazy fluent."

Ingvild tilted her head like a confused puppy. Then, realization spread across her face. "Oh. This must have been what Ulestar was talking about. Devils can speak every language, he told me. It would make sense, I guess, since I didn't learn much English while I was in school."

"Oh." Percy hadn't known that. "That's a pretty useful trait."

"I think so too." She took the final forkful of her dinner and chewed thoughtfully. "Why did you want to know?"

"I guess… I was still thinking about the whole 'God' thing," he lied. Mostly, he'd been wanting to stave off another nap. It would have been embarrassing to fall asleep so soon after dinner.

"I was thinking about that too," she said softly.

"Come to terms with it?" Percy asked.

Ingvild stared at her empty plate. "Even if I'm a devil… is it wrong to believe in God?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to believe in God," he said carefully. "I'm not positive God is dead either, but I don't know why Tiamat would want to lie to us about something like that. She's probably telling the truth."

"That… I'm sorry. Maybe I just need more time to think about it."

"Let me know if I can help somehow," he said, leaning back on the sofa. "There's probably not much I can do, though. Guess it all comes down to your frame of mind again."

Even though she had just slept half the day away, her eyes seemed to have trouble focusing on him. "When will you teach me how to become confident?"

Percy ran a thumb over the beads on his necklace. Seven, just like he remembered. "That's more of a gradual process than something you'll see results for immediately."

"Then what can I do right now?" she asked. "Isn't there anything?"

"A good start would be staying alive."

"I suppose that's true…"

"That was supposed to be a joke. Kind of. What I mean is that, right now, focusing on keeping yourself safe is pretty important. Tiamat was right; it would be a good idea to learn how to use your power."

She tilted her head. "Would you show me how to use it?"

"Tiamat called dibs on teaching you magic after you went to lie down." Percy gave her an encouraging smile. "Since she's a god and a dragon, I'm assuming she has a pretty good idea of how to teach you."

"I see…" She clenched her hands together tightly. "And my Sacred Gear?"

"My guess would be that Tiamat is gonna handle that too. She seemed to know a bit about them," he said. "In the meantime, you can stay with me. Does that sound good to you?"

"Of course," she said quickly. "I wouldn't know what else to do."

"Well, we've all gotta start somewhere."

"Where did you start?"

"I started at a camp. That was a long time ago, though. The camp doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Why? It wasn't your fault, was it?"

"Well… no…" Ingvild glanced away for a moment. "My condolences." She wrung her hands. "If I can help somehow, please let me know."

"Sure, thanks."

After so long, it was strange knowing other people were willing to help him. First, Michael and Gabriel, then Tiamat, and now Ingvild.

A lot of people had helped him get to this point, and he'd hardly repaid them for their sacrifices. If not for them, Kronos would have won long before the battle in Manhattan.

_Of all the timelines I could have ended up in, it had to be one without a trace of my friends and family._ Percy chewed on the inside of his lip. He figured it must have been the balancing of his luck. Percy really did consider himself lucky, in the end. Though there was always room for improvement in that department.

Percy gathered the plates and stood up. Ingvild stood as well, but he shook his head at her. "Don't bother. I'll wash the dishes."

"I want to do my part."

"You cooked. I count that as helping do your part. Don't you?"

"That wasn't enough."

"Seriously?"

"After you saved my life… and now that you're offering a place for me to be safe… I don't think one dinner is enough. It's not fair."

Percy felt his mouth twitch. He handed her the plates. Honestly, he didn't like doing housework and chores anyway. This saved him the trouble.

Ingvild nodded at him and walked off to the kitchen, apparently pleased with herself. Percy scratched his head and sat down again. The sound of running water, clinking metal, and humming filled the apartment. A warmth settled in his bones.

He blinked.

He fell asleep.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Percy woke up to a mostly dark apartment.

The blinds were closed, and the lights had all been turned off. The TV cast a bright glow on half of the living room. On the other sofa, Ingvild was curled up, sleeping in the same clothing Tiamat had given to her.

"Ingvild." Percy went to her side and nudged her arm. "Ingvild, let me get you something better to sleep in."

The girl let out a small puff of air from her nose but didn't stir otherwise. Percy nudged her again, this time poking her cheek, only to receive the same response.

That wasn't normal. He frowned and put both hands on her shoulders, shaking her a bit more forcefully. He got a snort for his troubles.

After considering his options, Percy scooped her up and carried her to his room. He laid her onto the bed. From what he could tell, she was sleeping peacefully, her breathing only broken by the occasional snore.

_Is this… because of the sleeping illness? _He watched as she curled up and buried her head into the pillow. Another snore made him wince. _Not exactly Sleeping Beauty, huh? _

Percy closed the door behind him as he left. Whether he slept on a bed or on the ground, the nightmares would wake him up regardless. Sleeping for more than a few hours was basically a pipe dream these days.

He stepped into the living room again. As he did, his instinct-driven body reacted to a whispered hiss of air being displaced.

Riptide came up just in time to block a strike from behind. A short, grinding squeal of metal later had Percy closing in on the source of the attack. Amid his quick spin, he caught a glimpse of his attacker thanks to the TV light.

A robed person, wielding a scythe and wearing a metallic mask shaped like the skull of a goat.

Scythes…

Gods, he absolutely_ loathed_ scythes.

Percy wanted to freeze at the sight of the scythe, but his first reaction was to attack. His arm felt like it would be torn from its socket with how hard he swung at the robed figure. Riptide was barely more than a blurry blotch of glowing bronze, even to his own eyes.

The robed figure jerked back and let Riptide pass through where his neck had been.

He was as fast as Hyperion, Percy realized. Not good.

They both backed off for a split-second. The light from the TV created blue and white streaks on the skull mask. Dark sockets where eyes should have been somehow made the mask both more and less threatening.

Goat Head twitched before going on the offensive. He drove forward with blinding speed. Percy could barely make out the motion of two swings—a poorly disguised feint from the right, and the real attack which came from the left. If Goat Head had put in a little more effort, he might have fooled Percy with the feint.

Instead, Percy let it play out the way Goat Head wanted. He shifted Riptide to the right.

The scythe arced from the left. Percy lifted his left arm.

If he hadn't been invulnerable, that would have been it. Game over. The scythe would have cut through his waist as easily as wheat and killed him on the spot.

But it didn't. It couldn't. The scythe connected, and the blade tried to gut him, but all it did was push him to the side a little. His skin didn't split. The only place it could split was a small spot opposite his navel.

Goat Head didn't have time to be surprised. Percy dropped his left arm and locked the scythe in place, its blade pressed tightly against his skin. He struck hard and fast.

Riptide gouged through Goat Head's left shoulder. One arm dropped to the floor. Percy had been aiming for Goat Head's center of mass, but the god—because, yeah, it had to be a god—had managed to wrench to one side and avoid being turned into a halved god.

The god reared back, croaking in pain as he released his hold on the scythe. Percy stepped forward and swung at the god's head, only managing to graze part of the mask to knock it free from his face.

Another scythe materialized in the god's remaining hand. He spun around, and Percy blocked the strong strike that came his way.

When they parted again, the god summoned a white mandala behind him with a few muttered words. Percy hesitated when he saw the patterned circle, but didn't stop his attack. He pressed on, ready to swing or to lunge with his next step.

The mandala pulsed once before casting the room into inky darkness.

Percy bit back a curse, pausing. Everything was black. It was almost as if he'd gone blind. The darkness was crushing and all-consuming. A trickle of ice-water spilled down his spine.

He focused on his breathing and kept his ears open. That was the only way he would be able to know what was happening.

A shuffling from behind made Percy twist and slash.

The darkness receded. When his vision came back to him, Percy saw that there was nobody else in the room with him. He looked around, first to the kitchen, then to the entryway, and finally to the hallway. His eyes widened. He ran to the bedroom, almost knocking the door off its hinges when he burst through.

Ingvild was still sleeping on the bed. Her snores had become longer and louder.

He watched her for a few seconds, gave the room a thorough scan, then went back to the living room. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something shiny on the floor. It was the goat mask. Apparently the god hadn't taken it with him. The god's severed arm was missing, though.

Percy turned on the lights. He capped Riptide and crouched down to grab the mask, handling it carefully on the off chance it had been rigged to explode.

_What the hell was that about?_ He glared at the metal skull. It was in pristine condition except for a gouged line under one of the eye sockets, which must have been where his sword connected. _Did the Grim Reaper just try to kill me? He wasn't Kronos… that's for sure. _

Percy wasn't sure what had just happened. He'd been attacked for seemingly no reason. Ingvild hadn't been hurt—though whether that's because Goat Head got his arm chopped off or because she had never been his target was up for debate.

What did it mean? He didn't know.

What he did know was that he'd made a big mistake. Percy had shown one of his trump cards right off the bat. Impenetrable skin was great and all, but he still had weaknesses, not to mention his one mortal point. Now that Goat Head knew about his impenetrable skin, if he came back for revenge or to finish the job, he'd know better than to get cocky.

On top of that, Goat Head had been fast. Faster than Percy. Now he knew about Percy's invulnerability…

Percy recalled what Tiamat had told him. _"I may be the first to confront you, but I won't be the last." _

Not great. Not great at all.

Percy wasn't about to let it slide. Being attacked in his own home was where he drew the final line. There were lines before that, but this was the final line. To make matters worse, he'd been attacked by some scythe-wielding god with a thing for goats.

What could he do about it, though? Michael had told him to visit Saint Patrick's Cathedral if he ever needed help. Apparently, there were people there who could get into contact with Heaven.

It wasn't a horrible idea… but he didn't want to get Ingvild involved with Heaven. She was a devil, after all. Michael seemed tolerant of devils, but Ingvild wasn't just _any _devil; she was a direct descendant of the first Leviathan, whom Michael had probably fought against in that big war a thousand years ago.

Risky. Not to mention, if he left, Ingvild would be alone for a while. Sure, the cathedral was only a few blocks away, but Goat Head had somehow gotten into the apartment without a hitch. Teleportation made it too easy to invade other people's privacy.

_Then again, he didn't go after Ingvild. He probably could have… but he didn't. _Percy took his eyes off the mask and sighed in frustration. _I must have been the target all along. Why did he wait until I woke up? How long had he been there? _

There were too many questions, he realized. He wanted answers, but that meant either waiting for Tiamat to get back or leaving Ingvild alone while he went to the cathedral.

Or taking Ingvild with him… to a church.

That sounded like a bad idea.

Percy shook his head and stood up. He finally turned off the TV and made his way back into the bedroom. He sat at the desk opposite the bed, set the mask down, and settled himself so that he faced Ingvild. Even though the scythe hadn't pierced his skin, something inside of him ached.

Crossing his arms, he tried to push the thought of Backbiter out of his mind.

No luck. Never any in that department.

His next move might be the difference between keeping Ingvild alive and killing her dead. He wanted to make a decision before the sun rose.

It was going to be a long night. One thing Percy did know, though, was that Goat Head had to go.

* * *

**Author Note: Hello again. Thanks for all of your support, and sorry about the long wait. **

**I don't think Ingvild's home has been mentioned across the translated material (including Shin Vol. 3), but since her name is mostly associated with Norwegians, it probably isn't a stretch to say she's from Norway. Along those lines, I don't think it's too much to think that she was raised to believe in God, considering she lived during the early 20th century in a predominantly Christian country.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

If you need a second chance, you lost. I'd know. I've had about a million second chances.

_-Quote attributed to Percy Jackson_

* * *

Percy chose to wait for Tiamat to return instead of involving Heaven.

While he didn't like the thought of giving the scythe-wielding god a chance to recover from losing an arm, he figured one or two days wouldn't make much of a difference. Either the god would get a new arm somehow, or he wouldn't. It really did boil down to something so simple as gods pretending to be human, without actually having to be human.

Not that Percy was complaining about being human. He wasn't complaining about being half-god, either. All said, he wouldn't want to be anything else besides a demigod, even if his life was harder because of it. He didn't know how to be anything else. Not after he'd spent so long living the life of a demigod.

Not after the war. Not after Kronos.

So, even though he chose to wait, Percy also chose to live a little cautiously. During the night, he'd gone and filled most of his cups with water from the tap, setting them around his apartment in places where he would have otherwise had to cause severe damage getting water from the pipes.

Did it look stupid, having a bunch of topped-off glasses sitting around, either on furniture or on the floor? Obviously, it did. Any normal person walking into his apartment might think he had a few screws loose.

In this case, though, he couldn't just consider his own safety. Fighting a god fair-and-square was great and everything, but it was also a casualty report just begging to be filed. Percy lived in an apartment building for crying out loud. A battle inside would probably bring the whole thing toppling down.

There was no way he'd let that happen. His city had already suffered enough because he hadn't been able to defend it.

Never again.

Percy was sitting in his chair, facing Ingvild. The sun was about to rise. He'd spent most of the night in the bedroom with her, keeping an eye out just on the off-chance Goat Head came back.

If that was the case, Percy figured he would be ready. That moment of hesitation when the god had created his patterned circle may have been what allowed him to escape. It had been a bad call on Percy's part to hesitate. A mistake that he could live with—he was still alive, right?—but a mistake all the same. Next time, that kind of hesitation might be dangerous for him and the people around him.

Sobering. Percy had learned his lesson, though. Goat Head wouldn't get away next time.

Whether next time was in his apartment or not, that god wasn't getting away.

Percy got up and went to the window, peeking through the blinds. It was brighter than he remembered. He'd spent the entire night thinking, riling himself up, slowly becoming angrier and angrier at the scythe-wielding god… and at himself.

He should have known better than to risk a "Round 2" when he still held all his cards close to his chest.

Actually, he _did_ know better. Kronos never would have lost to him in a contest of endurance, strength, or speed. Even with Kronos stuck in Luke's body, the best Percy could do in a fair fight was to create a stalemate. Beyond everything else, the power to control time was just ridiculously broken.

And that's what he'd dealt with. It was a battle against time, with time still on his side. It sounded weird in hindsight, but there wasn't a better way to describe how the past years had panned out.

For a long time, the game had been rigged from the start. He'd only won by sneaking an ace up his sleeve and not giving Kronos a chance to counter his hand. It had been the only way.

He didn't even remember how many times he'd died getting to that point. More than ten. More than a thousand. Maybe close to a million?

Less or more, it didn't matter. Not anymore.

Percy took a deep breath. Every day that passed felt like another betrayal to the people who couldn't have these days.

Was it luck, or was it fate?

In the end, who even cared? Percy had wanted one thing above all else for who-knew-how-many years, and he'd gotten that single thing two weeks ago.

Now… Now, he didn't know what he wanted. More than anything else—and more than Percy ever want to admit—Kronos' war had given him purpose. It had given him a better sense of purpose than all of his high school career counseling combined. For years, all he'd wanted was to see Kronos die.

And that's what he had gotten.

So… what now? What else could he do?

What did he _want_ to do?

It was a hard question to answer. Thanks to Heaven, he probably had a ton of opportunities. Michael seemed weirdly gung-ho about helping him with just about anything and everything. In that regard, Percy figured he could get back into college, thanks to the stuff Michael had already done for him.

If he did go back, at least he wouldn't have to worry about looking the part. Thanks to Kronos' warped sense of entertainment, Percy still looked like he was nineteen, though he felt geriatric.

The real question was if he wanted to go back. Percy was better at fighting than taking tests. By now, Riptide had spent more time as a sword than a pen in his hands. Even when it was in his pocket, he could still feel the weight of it, and he could still feel the leather already warmed in his palm, and he could still smell blood and smoke clinging to his clothes, and he could still hear the cracking of concrete, the groaning of metal, and the swelling of thunder in the distance.

Memories, he reminded himself. Those were just memories of a time when he had a purpose. They were just…

They were just terrible memories of a war he couldn't stop fighting.

Every day was the same battle.

Percy wanted to know why he was still fighting, even though Kronos was dead.

Was this what winning was supposed to feel like? Was it really?

How had Chiron done it, Percy wondered. Living for thousands of years, training demigods so they could become heroes, watching them grow and watching them die. How was something like that even possible?

Percy didn't think it was possible for humans. Chiron was immortal, and immortals typically had a weird way of looking at the world.

Devils weren't technically immortal, but they lived for an extremely long time. Did that mean Ingvild would have to adopt an immortal's mindset?

Watching as she slept, Percy found it hard to believe that she might end up becoming like Hera or Zeus or Tiamat. He had only decided to help Ingvild on a stupid whim, out of pity because of how he'd found her, all bloody and drenched by the rain, curled up and miserable-looking on the rotted steps of a broken lighthouse. She hadn't even had any shoes on, and her dress had been torn and muddied and stained by soot.

Seeing her like that, of course he would pity her.

But she was a lot stronger than he gave her credit for. Maybe she didn't need his pity.

Maybe she needed it for a little while longer.

Life had dealt her a bad hand.

Percy knew what that was like.

Essentially, they were two peas in a very rotten pod.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Ingvild didn't wake up. She wasn't dead, but no matter what he tried, Percy couldn't break her out of her deep sleep.

He was relieved when Tiamat came back, as promised, the next day. Percy had been lounging on the sofa when she appeared, staring holes into the goat mask as it sat on the coffee table for most of the morning.

"You look terrible," Tiamat said, stepping out of a patterned circle. "What happened to you?"

Percy frowned at her. "Is that really the first thing you want to say to me?"

Tiamat threw herself down on the nearest sofa and crossed her legs. "What's the problem? It's not like we haven't seen each other for a long time. Did you want me to bring flowers and chocolate?"

"I wouldn't say no to chocolate and flowers even on my worst day."

"Which it looks like you're going through…" Tiamat let her eyes linger on him for a few seconds. "What happened? I mean, honestly, you look like you haven't slept in a week. That's impressive, considering I've only been gone for two nights."

"Well, it definitely feels like it's been a week. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Sun Tzu said that."

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or are you just going to keep annoying me with your inanities? Mark my words, one of these days, I'm going to fondly remember burying my fist in your stomach."

Percy let out a small huff from his nose, smiling. The amusement died quickly. From his position opposite of Tiamat, he motioned to the bedroom. "Ingvild's been asleep for a day. Literally. It's been… thirty-six hours or something like that. I've tried waking her up but…" He shook his head. "I don't know what's wrong. Must be that stupid disease."

"The suspension."

"The who-now?"

"Colloquially, the devils call that illness 'suspension'. Of course, humans just call it being comatose. For all intents and purposes, suspension functions as an inexplicable coma."

"_Awesome_." Percy sighed and ran a hand across his eyes. "Is she gonna wake up?"

Shrugging, she said, "We'll have to wait and see, I suppose. The illness is rare, so I don't know much about it."

"Is there someone who does?" he asked.

"I'd have to ask Ajuka," Tiamat said.

"Beetlejuice?"

"Beelzebub… Don't pretend you forgot how to pronounce his name…" Her expression was less than impressed. "I'll see what Ajuka knows about the disease. Don't hold your breath for a cure, though. Last I heard there was none."

Percy should have figured. The devils taking care of Ingvild would have wanted to get their hands on a cure no matter what if that was the case. In the end, there was nothing he could do for her regarding the illness. He said, "Good thing I've learned to keep my expectations as low as possible. Can't be disappointed if I never expect anything good in the first place, right?"

"You're not wrong." Tiamat tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But just because you aren't wrong, that doesn't mean you're right."

"Sure. Anyway, we have other problems—I have other problems," Percy said, standing up. "And I need your help to figure out my next move."

Tiamat leaned back into the sofa and used her foot to point at the coffee table. "Does that problem have anything to do with this mask?"

The muscles around his jaw tightened. "Yeah. It has everything to do with the mask. Someone attacked me two nights ago, here, in the apartment. Had a robe, a scythe, and that mask. Fast. Probably a god." He looked at Tiamat. "Do you know anything about someone like that?"

Her tongue ran over a sharp canine tooth. She examined the mask silently, bouncing her foot up and down. "To me, it sounds like you were attacked by a grim reaper."

"_A_ grim reaper? Not _the _Grim Reaper? There's more than one?"

"Thousands more."

"I don't think this guy was your run-of-the-mill grim reaper, then."

"Show me how fast he was," Tiamat said curiously.

Percy's face scrunched, but he took Riptide out of his pocket and uncapped it. He moved away from her, took a loose stance, then swung.

Tiamat blinked as her hair fluttered from the puff of wind following his swing. "That fast?"

"Maybe a little faster."

"How are you still alive?"

"I eat my vegetables." Percy took the liberty to put Riptide's cap on again. "And gods can be really easy to surprise if you've got the right trick up your sleeve."

"I... I can't believe I missed it..." she said sullenly, covering her face with both hands. "This is the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen."

"Do you know anything about the guy who attacked me?"

Tiamat quickly stopped her sulking and took a few seconds to think. "There are only a handful of grim reapers able to move so fast. Only the highest-ranking would wear a mask like that, setting themselves apart from the masses."

"So, hypothetically, where would someone go if they wanted to lodge a complaint? Or, again hypothetically, if they wanted payback?"

"They would, hypothetically, go to the Netherworld and speak with Hades."

Hades. Why was it always Hades?

"Good to know. Thanks."

"Don't even think about it," Tiamat said, crossing her arms. "Hades commands the grim reapers, and he governs the Netherworld, and because of his position he holds sway over more than you could imagine. He's an ancient, powerful, and often vindictive god. Moving against him usually results in… catastrophe. Few mortals go to the Netherworld and leave with their life."

"I _know_," Percy said. "I've been to the Underworld before. I've also put Hades in his place before, and I'll do it again if I have to."

"Not exactly a smart idea."

"Never said it was smart, did I?"

"Then why bother?"

Percy grabbed the mask by one of its horns. He lifted it until it was eye-level. "Gods think they can do whatever they want just because they're _gods_. I mean, who'd want to argue with someone powerful enough to turn them into a dolphin?" He scowled at the line his sword had left on the mask. "It's gross. If you use your power to hurt other people just because you can, then you never deserved that power in the first place."

"So, you want to teach this mysterious grim reaper a lesson?"

"Your words, not mine."

"That's suicide. If you want to die so badly, I would prefer you to allow me to do the honors." Tiamat stood up quickly and pounded a fist against her chest. "Let me kill you. I can make it as painless or painful as you want. You won't find a more professional god than me."

Percy dropped the mask back onto the table, giving Tiamat an odd look. "I'm gonna pass on that."

Tiamat chuckled. "If you choose to go down there with the intention of quenching your thirst for vengeance, it'll be the last thing you do. Hades is a god even I wouldn't want to come into conflict with."

"Good thing I'm not asking you to fight him," Percy said. He walked around the table. "All I need is a way to get down there. Where I'm from, the best way to get to the Underworld is through a recording studio or a pile of rocks in Central Park."

"You really need to tell me more stories about your reality. Every time you open your mouth, I seem to learn something strange about your experiences there."

"I'll clear my schedule for you."

"Much appreciated."

"Of course, that'll have to be _after_ I find the grim reaper who attacked me."

"_Oy vey_. You're really going to drag me into this, aren't you?" Tiamat said with a self-deprecating smile. "Then again, this is the kind of thing I've been waiting for."

Shrugging, Percy said, "I'm not asking you to come with me. I just need you to teleport me down there."

She frowned. "No, no, that won't work. This is the whole reason I bothered to create our team: to see what the anomaly—you—does. I already missed your scuffle with a grim reaper. That's just unacceptable."

"Except, someone needs to watch Ingvild. She's still being hunted by Old Satan cronies. And your protections didn't exactly keep that grim reaper from waltzing right on in."

"It's meant to keep people from sensing Ingvild's power. Nobody knows she's here. Layering more magic on top of what's already there would only make people suspicious of what's being protected here," Tiamat explained. "It's better to take a minimalist approach in this situation. We wouldn't want to draw too much attention."

"Then that grim reaper—"

"You said it yourself, right? He wasn't here because of Ingvild. He was here for you."

"We can't leave her alone… can we?"

"Sure we can," Tiamat countered quickly. "Either we leave her here, or we bring her with us once she wakes up."

"If she wakes up."

"She most likely will wake up. As I said, I'm not an expert on the subject, but the chances of her falling comatose for another century must be low."

That didn't reassure him. He switched arguments: "She doesn't belong in the Underworld."

Tiamat snorted. "She's a _devil_. The Underworld is where she belongs the most."

That was a good point, he realized. Or, it would have been, if Ingvild wasn't also part human. Just because his dad was Poseidon, that didn't mean he belonged on Olympus. He didn't belong in his father's underwater realm, either, for that matter.

"We aren't taking her with us," Percy said firmly.

"Then she'll stay. Your options are limited for getting to the Netherworld. You can come with me, or you can try to find another person who knows how to translocate to such an out-of-the-way place. Another god, for example. Or someone like Michael."

In other words, he didn't actually have any options. Especially not if he wanted to make his move sooner rather than later. He'd already wasted a day waiting.

He couldn't waste any more.

"All right, we'll play it your way," he said.

Tiamat smirked. "I knew you were smarter than you looked."

"Was that necessary?"

"Absolutely. You don't have anybody else to keep your…" She cocked her head, still smirking, and wagged her fingers at his body in a vague gesture. "To keep _you_ at these levels of arrogance. Any more and I wouldn't be able to work with you, or ever be around you for that matter; you'd be truly insufferable."

"Right," Percy drawled. "As if you can talk to me about arrogance." He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. "No. You know what? Let's not even talk about this. We've got bigger fish to fry right now."

"True enough. Hades won't take kindly to a flagrant trespass against him."

"Tough. He should keep better tabs on his reapers."

"At least tell me you have a plan that involves more than just going down there and killing his subordinates."

"I don't want collateral. I just want Goat Head." Percy twisted his head down in a nod. "And I do have a plan. It's not a great plan… but it's a plan."

Tiamat scoffed, crossing her arms and taking slow, deliberate steps around the table to reach him. She squinted at him, still smirking. "Revenge, huh? What good will that do you? What do you gain?"

Percy squinted right back at her. "Don't patronize me. You're a _god_. Revenge is something you guys perfected."

"Don't lump us all together. I don't know what kind of plan you have, but it won't work. Hades is one of the most powerful gods currently active in this reality. You will die."

"Wanna bet?"

Tiamat's mouth slowly dipped down. She gazed at him pensively. Her eyes—as intense and domineering as ever—scanned his face, lingering on a few spots before she frowned and backed away. "You have nothing to give me when I win. What's the point in betting if I have nothing to gain?"

Percy shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. He gave Tiamat a small smile. "Good question. You always talk about your treasures, so I guess there's nothing I could give you that's worth the risk."

"Exactly."

"Yeah. Exactly." Percy stopped smiling. "Tell me about the Underworld—or Netherworld or whatever you want to call it."

"Do you have the time for that? You seem to be in a hurry."

He looked toward his bedroom, where Ingvild was still sleeping. If he did what he needed to do in the Underworld quickly, there would be less of a chance that she got hurt when he was gone.

Yeah. The sooner he could put this whole _grim reaper_ business behind him, the better.

"I guess the only thing I really need to know would be…" Percy met her inquisitive gaze. "Is there any water down there?"

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

They arrived in the Netherworld, which Percy figured wasn't the same as the Netherlands, though since he'd never been to either in this timeline, he couldn't be sure. If the Netherlands was a perpetually misty land with ash-colored earth that seemed to have suffered one too many nuclear explosions, it might come close to looking like the Netherworld.

"You weren't kidding," Percy said. "This place sucks."

"Never let it be said that I didn't warn you," she replied easily.

Percy looked around. Nothing but mist for as far as the eye could see. "So, Hades lives down here?" He glanced up, but couldn't find a ceiling. Just more mist. "Seems about right. You said you could find him, right?"

Tiamat cocked her head as if she was trying to listen in on something. It didn't take long until she pointed directly to their right. "Hades' temple is that way. I can smell the rot from here."

"Great. Let's get going." He didn't want to stay in the Netherworld any longer than absolutely necessary. The color of the ground was tricking him into thinking that he could smell ash and smoke. That trick was making it just a little harder to breathe. "How far away are we from Hades?"

"I did my best to get as close as I could, but it's been almost two thousand years since I was last here. My memory is a bit fuzzy…"

"How far?" Percy asked, exasperated.

"About a mile."

"That's not too bad, I guess."

"It should have been closer…" Tiamat clicked her tongue in annoyance and frowned at the whitish-gray fog above her. "This place is too alive for my liking."

The hair on his arms and back of his neck straightened. "This place is alive?"

She kicked at the cracked ground, which looked more like old cement than it did dirt. "Hades likes to make people think it is. Admittedly, in some ways, his claims make sense. He doesn't choose who lives and who dies. Nor do his grim reapers. This place was always a single station in the grand scheme of death… Either way, the Netherworld is unpleasant, whether it is sentient or has any form of consciousness is beside the point."

"Creepy."

"That's something we can agree on."

Percy looked in the direction which Tiamat had pointed toward. Of course, because of the fog, he couldn't see a thing. Even so, with just a little bit of concentration, as he tuned out the chill and dampness that tried to grab his attention, something became obviously clear to him through the otherwise vast emptiness of the Netherworld: five grand masses of moving water called to him in the distance, swirling with ancient power and mystery as deep as the ocean.

Each river had its own flavor. The Styx was easiest for him to pinpoint—why wouldn't it be, after all? The other four rivers were distinct, but he didn't know which names went with what sensation. One made him relive the last battle, one filled him with pity, one didn't do anything, and one gave him a bad case of acid reflux.

Naturally, the Styx only made him want to find Goat Head even faster.

"All right, let's get going," he said.

"Let's," Tiamat agreed.

They moved onward, pressing through the fog together. Now that he knew the Netherworld could possibly be some kind of conscious landscape, the idea of walking across it didn't hold the same appeal.

He wouldn't turn back and call the whole quest a lost cause—of course not—but his nerves sent a pulse of anxious energy with every step he took.

The temperature dropped the further they went along. Each yard cost them one degree.

It wasn't long until the ground beneath them changed to become slick with the sheerest layer of ice possible. Their feet splintered the thin ice no matter how lightly they stepped, and the resulting noise was an ungodly cracking that carried itself into the gloom.

"We're almost there," Tiamat said.

Percy nodded. He could feel the rivers. Before they appeared, though, the fog started to clear until it became little more than an ambient mist.

"Or maybe we're already here," Percy muttered.

In front of them was a huge Greek temple made of black stone. Percy had never seen the Parthenon in person, but Annabeth had shown him enough pictures for him to know that this temple was about three times as big.

Not to mention, this temple was also in mint condition, which only added to its overall grandeur.

From what Percy could tell, the rivers flowed out from the temple, first through the ground before surfacing somewhere behind the massive structure and running further off into the Netherworld.

"Think Hades has an open-door policy?"

"What else are you going to do? It's a bit late to schedule an appointment."

"Okay… I'll give you that one."

"You'll give me a lot more than one." Tiamat rolled her eyes, gesturing for him to take the steps before she did. "Go on. This is your mission, isn't it? Harebrained as it is, I have a feeling you'll see it through."

"You know me so well," Percy said, shaking his head and starting toward the temple.

"If only."

Slipping between the massive columns was easy enough. The doorway leading into the temple's main body was wide open, and he couldn't see anything beyond it.

Percy let his thumb brush against Riptide's form through his jeans. "Guess he doesn't mind visitors."

Tiamat nodded. "So it would seem. All the better to see if your plan will work."

They entered the temple.

Inside was perfectly lit, the walls being lined with blazing lanterns. The room they found themselves in was—as the outside suggested—absolutely huge. Two lines of columns stretched for almost as far as the eye could see on either side of them. Lanterns hung from the columns too. It must have taken hundreds to light the entire temple.

"Hades is waiting for us," Tiamat said, gesturing to the far end of the room.

If he squinted, Percy could just make out the outline of something in that direction. "Great."

As they walked, Percy got the feeling they were being watched. From the corner of his eyes, he could see shadows moving behind the large pillars which enclosed them, never staying in one place long enough for him to see what was sneaking around.

Due to the size of the building, it took too long for them to reach the far end.

On the back wall—the same which Hades hadn't turned away from—was a colossal carving. There were three prominent people in that carving, who Percy assumed where the Big Three themselves: Zeus pointed a jagged bolt of lightning from stone clouds, Poseidon raised his trident from crashing waves, and Hades commanded an army of skeletons.

Percy and Tiamat came to a stop just behind Hades, who stood beside a flaming brazier.

The god turned to face them. He was at least seven feet tall and wore ornate robes fit for the pope. More striking, though, was that he was a skeleton. Two shining dots of blue were the only things in his shadowed eye sockets. His unmoving, toothy grin was unnerving.

With how close they were, Hades had to bend his head to meet Percy's gaze. The blue dots brightened in his sockets. For a second, neither of them blinked—not that Hades could. Then, a crackling chuckle split the very air around them.

"How bold," Hades declared. His voice was less spoken than it was echoed by the edges of darkness throughout the Netherworld. In fact, his jaw didn't even so much as twitch. "It's been a long time since I last hosted a demigod in my realm. Rather, it's been a long time since a demigod dared enter the Netherworld without my permission." His blue dots drifted over to Tiamat. "And despite bringing the likes of this dragon, you don't cower behind her. You certainly are foolish. Or maybe… brave?"

_Where have I heard that before?_ Percy wondered.

The whole situation reeked of vertigo waiting to happen. Percy had never expected to meet Hades again. The last time they saw each other had been a few weeks before Percy's eighteenth birthday when he'd gone down to bathe in the Styx. That, in itself, had been years ago.

Standing in front of this skeletal version of Hades…

All of the old animosity started to swell up in his stomach. Everything from his mom's abduction to the way Hades had hidden himself in his palace while the Titan army threw themselves at New York. That wasn't even mentioning how he had treated Nico.

The kid had deserved better than someone like Hades to be his father.

"And if it was up to him," Tiamat said, "I wouldn't be here right now. He wanted to come alone. Much more of a fool than you imagined, right?"

Hades chuckled merrily. The noise made Percy grind his teeth. "Indeed. That's quite novel… Who are you, boy? What business do you have in this place?"

"I won't beat around the bush," Percy said, glaring up at the god. "I'm Percy. One of your goons tried to kill me a couple of nights ago. Attacked me in my own living room. You know anything about that?"

"My grim reapers are dispatched _en masse_ to guide souls out of the mortal world in a timely fashion," Hades said. "I afford them a good deal of autonomy because I trust them to do their job. Unfortunately for you, that means I wouldn't know about the actions of a single subordinate."

"Not even if that subordinate was one of your top brass?" Percy asked.

Almost as if they had practiced it, Tiamat summoned the goat mask from where she had stored it and tossed it at Hades' feet. "Maybe this will jog your memory?" She smirked at him. "Quite the souvenir, wouldn't you agree? One of your lieutenants has been overstepping his bounds."

Hades scooped the mask up, turning it over in his skeletal grasp for a few silent seconds. "I see…"

"Who was it, Hades?" Percy demanded.

The god didn't even flinch. "Thanatos."

Tiamat whistled. "You sent your second-in-command to kill a human demigod? What could have possessed you to do something so ridiculous?"

"A bizarre assumption," Hades said. "I would tread more carefully while you are here, Dragon King Tiamat. This temple is mine. This dirt is mine. This air is mine. Even your life can be mine, should I so choose."

Strangely enough, she didn't try to argue. Instead, she sneered and crossed her arms defensively, leaning away from Hades.

Percy took a step forward. "So, you didn't send him?"

Hades scoffed. The noise grated off the top layer of Percy's bones. "What would I gain from doing something so asinine? I don't know you."

"Why'd he attack me, then?"

From what Percy remembered, Thanatos was supposed to be the god of _peaceful_ death. Their short scuffle had been anything _but_ peaceful. Unless the word meant something else entirely in this timeline.

Then again, Percy had never met the guy in his own timeline, so maybe the job description had changed to fit the times.

"I don't know," Hades admitted. "More than being beholden to me, he acts to uphold the balance of the world through his job. He is a servant of the Netherworld."

"Which you control," Percy said.

"I govern the Netherworld. I don't control it."

"Very convenient."

"Are you calling me a liar? Are you presuming to know better than me?"

"If that's how you want to look at it, then yes." Percy leaned forward. "Where's Thanatos?"

Hades stared blankly. "Who are you? Do you even know the position you willingly put yourself in?" He looked down at the mask in his hand. "For that matter, how did you get this?"

"Where is he, Hades?"

"Was it your doing, Dragon King Tiamat?" Hades ignored him in favor of asking more questions. "Surely Thanatos put up quite the fight, regardless of the circumstances. I must say, I'm impressed."

Tiamat shook her head. "I wasn't there when it happened. From what Percy told me, he caught Thanatos by surprise at some point during their little battle."

The funny thing was, even though she described it as being really anti-climactic, she hadn't left out anything important. Hindsight always made things look simple.

"You? You alone?" Hades let the words linger between them.

Percy didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. He stared back at the god about as blankly as he could.

"I have a hard time believing a demigod would be able to battle Thanatos."

"And win said battle," Tiamat added with a smirk.

"Yes… and win…"

"Why don't you summon Thanatos here? You won't get an answer from Percy. He's secretive about the strangest things."

"Why would I bow to the whims of one mortal and his pet dragon? Or is it the other way around? A dragon and her pet mortal. You'll have to excuse me for my confusion with your relationship."

"Watch yourself," Tiamat warned. "You are powerful, but an angry dragon has brought many kingdoms to ruin; would you risk the safety of yours for something so petty?"

"That would be a fair argument if it had any weight. Would you risk your own life for—as you put it—something so petty?"

The two gods postured in tense silence. Despite the flaming brazier, the temperature dipped enough so that Percy could see his breath. In the darkness of his eye sockets, Hades' dots seemed to blaze brighter, never wavering, and never dimming.

Percy cleared his throat. "Look, I'm sure you're a busy guy, Hades. Why don't we just get this over with so we can go back to our regularly scheduled lives as painlessly as possible? I'm sure you want us out of your hair—not that you have any."

"Yes, I suppose I have to agree with you," Hades said glibly. "Before anything else, though, tell me something… What do you plan to do with Thanatos?"

"Use your imagination. If you have that sort of thing."

"Revenge is dangerous. It leads down dangerous paths—just take a look at yourself now. You stand dumbly and demand me to summon my subordinate so you can slake your desire for vengeance."

"I wouldn't call it standing dumbly," Percy said. "Besides, what do you have to lose?"

"Well, I suppose watching you die would be entertaining in its own right."

"Exactly. Fun for the whole family."

"I could have something nice to eat as well."

"Can't go wrong with popcorn."

Hades laughed. "I don't normally listen to requests. The balance of life and death is a delicate one, and it is actually quite precious. But you… I think the balance will be perfectly fine without you. One suicidal comedian does not a world end."

"Probably true."

Hades turned to the brazier and waved his hand over the flames. Smoke plumed upward, and cinders danced above the bronze tub, but nothing else happened.

The god tried again. When the same thing happened, he sighed.

"What's wrong?" Percy asked.

"I can't contact him."

"Seriously?"

"He has shrouded himself from me," Hades muttered. "Strange."

"So what does that mean for us?" Percy asked, though he already knew the answer.

"It means he wanted to keep this from me for his own reasons. I don't know where he is or why he did what he did. Apparently, I won't be learning anytime soon, either."

That was about what he had been expecting. When was anything handed to Percy on a silver platter and served fresh? Conveniences happened, but when it came to the important stuff, there had to be time where he spun wheels before getting what he wanted. It was one of the laws of the universe.

And the laws of the universe had to be followed…

For the most part.

Percy glared at the brazier. He almost couldn't believe Thanatos' audacity in attacking him at home and then going into hiding just to save his own skin.

Unless that wasn't the case at all.

"Sounds like we wasted a whole lot of time for no reason," Tiamat grumbled. "We're no closer to finding Thanatos than we were before coming here."

He nodded resentfully. "Pretty much."

"No, that isn't entirely true," Hades said, rubbing his chin. "There is one person you might still speak to in order to learn about Thanatos' whereabouts."

"What? Who?"

The dead god pointed through the massive carving. "At the edge of the Netherworld, where the rivers diverge and drop into the nine layers, you'll find Nyx, the primordial goddess of the night. If anybody is shrouding him from me, it would be her or her brother, Erebus. Follow the rivers and you will find their abode."

"And you want me to ask her? Why don't you do it? You're the boss around here."

"I'm a very busy god. While intriguing, Thanatos' reason for trying to kill you wouldn't be worth more of my valuable time. Your quarrel with him is of little concern to me."

Percy shook his head. "You're lying. I bet you're dying to know why one of your top goons went AWOL. You just want me to do your dirty work."

"Guilty as charged," Hades said, laughter tinting his echoey voice. "I have a decent working relationship with Nyx and Erebus. It would be a shame to taint it over one little case of insubordination. _You_, on the other hand, have no such worries, and you seem more than willing to risk your life for stupid reasons. This way, we both win. Ah, I am a genius, aren't I?"

"You're _something_, all right," Percy muttered. Genius wasn't exactly how he would describe Hades, though. "How far is it?"

"No more than fifteen minutes if you walk. Quite a short distance. It will be faster if you run, even. Just watch your step near the rivers. Falling into any of them would prove to be most... unfortunate."

Fifteen minutes. That wasn't too bad. He didn't know how long he had already been away for, but another fifteen minutes couldn't hurt.

"Fine." Percy narrowed his eyes at the god. "But if you're sending me on a wild goose chase, I'll be back. And you'll regret it," he promised.

"How scary." Hades laughed as they turned down the temple's main aisleway. "I hope you find all the answers you seek. Feel free to come back and share anything interesting you learn."

"Fat chance of that happening," Percy said while walking away. "If I have to come back, it won't be because I'm feeling friendly."

Tiamat snickered beside him, keeping up with his quick stride. "You two go together like oil and water."

And if that wasn't the most accurate way to compare them, Percy would eat his own socks. "I can't stand that guy."

She nodded. "The feeling must be mutual. His contempt for you was palpable. He'll be watching."

Yeah, that fit the bill just perfectly. It was almost like he never left home.

Almost.

As soon as he got back to Earth, though, it would be a whole different story. Still, he was looking forward to going back. The Netherworld was not his ideal honeymoon destination.

The sooner he finished his business, the sooner he could put this all behind him and never look back.

* * *

**Author Note: Thanks for your continued support and patience. **

**I hope you all stay healthy and safe. Maybe that sounds insincere since I'm saying it during a time when everybody else is saying it, but please do take care of yourself, both during the current situation and the time following. **

**Thank you for reading. **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I have seen the souls of those who allow the desire for revenge to consume them. I have borne witness to what became of twisted vengeance. People with nothing but hatred and indignation bubbling beneath their skin lead miserable lives. They perceive slights where there are none, torture themselves with spiteful thoughts, and walk headlong into bitterness and misery. Fools, the lot of them.

_-Quote attributed to Dragon King Tiamat_

* * *

Tiamat felt her heart begin to calm as she took the final step off of Hades' temple. Where once it had been slamming against her ribs, now it regained a modicum of peace, a feeling that continued to grow the longer she was away from the ruler of the Netherworld.

It had been… too long since she last felt this kind of anxiety. Centuries had passed her by without this level of fear brushing against her thoughts. Any fear at all, really.

She had long moved past allowing herself to be drawn into situations that would induce fear in her.

At least, that had been true until she allowed Percy to draw her in. The curiosity running circles in her brain might end up being the death of her.

Antagonizing _Hades_ of all gods… what in the world had he been thinking? No, what had _she_ been thinking? She could have just as easily kept her mouth shut for most of the conversation and let Percy do all the talking and aggravating.

For some reason, it hadn't been possible for her to stay silent. She had felt compelled to speak first—to make snide remarks she normally might not have made toward someone like Hades.

And then Hades had reminded her of just how much power he held. His eyes told of profound strength. His unmoving grin served to hammer in how small he must have perceived her to be. The threats he spoke were closer to promises than idle posturing.

It stung just to think about. She knew that any kind of battle with Hades would likely end with her death. Yes, she might do damage to him and the Netherworld in the process, but the outcome would be the same. She was the most powerful Dragon King… yet Hades was still her match.

Tiamat stole a sidelong glance at Percy as they wrapped around the side of the temple. His face was grim, mouth tightened and eyes shrouded by heavy fatigue. He looked as though he could collapse at a moment's notice, but even if he did, he would still crawl toward his vengeance. Exhaustion etched itself into his movements, from shoulders to legs, as if rust coated his joints. Silent anger boiled close to the top of his skin.

Despite all that, he hadn't quailed when speaking to Hades. She had been watching him closely, and nothing had indicated to her that he felt anything apart from apparent disgust at the death god.

Seeing him—_him_, in that pitiful state—hold his ground against a god like Hades made Tiamat realize how sad her own performance must have been. She knew he must have been feeling fear as well. Who in their right mind wouldn't? Yet, he hadn't let the fear balk him. Not even for a second.

Unlike her.

In many ways, she found it impressive.

In many other ways, she found it foolish.

Fear was necessary. It kept people alive. Long ago, when boundaries were more flexible and the world was a more dangerous place for even the gods, Tiamat had always heeded her fear. Thus, she had avoided fully involving herself in the Heavenly Dragons' conflict, despite having been interested in Ddraig at the time. She had lent him some of her most valuable possessions rather than come between them.

It was good that she had kept out of their fight, too. After learning that Yahweh had used their souls in his Sacred Gear project, the decision to remain at arm's length suddenly became the wisest thing she had ever done.

Was she going to do the same thing here?

No, perhaps not. The fear from before…

Had fear always been so exhilarating? She didn't know. She couldn't remember.

All she knew was that being alive hadn't grown stale quite yet.

_If I hadn't come here with Percy, would I have still experienced this feeling in the near future? _Tiamat frowned thoughtfully as they rounded another of the temple's corners. _Is this why Albion and Ddraig fought each other? Was it the thrill? At least in part?_

Percy came to an abrupt stop, and Tiamat left her thoughts behind to focus on the present situation, which found both of them standing at the edge of a large spring. From the spring branched five streams.

Farthest from where they stood was the Acheron, flowing with water not unlike tar. Following that was the Cocytus, its body tinged with flecks of ice, mirrored in name by the prison-lake of the ninth layer before the Abyss. In the middle was the Styx, the river with the darkest water, the dissolver of souls. The Phlegethon came next with its steaming surface. Finally, the river closest to them was the Lethe, which seemed about as normal as any river on Earth.

All of them were dangerous, though some more so than others.

"So, we just follow these all the way to Nyx and Erebus?" Percy asked skeptically. He looked at the temple looming over them. "Hades had better not be lying."

"I suppose we can only wait to find out," Tiamat replied. She had only ever been to the Netherworld once, more out of curiosity than any form of business, and she had left fairly quickly because of how dreary and uninteresting it was. "And regardless of if we meet with them, there's a chance they might not have the answers you want."

"I only want Thanatos. He can give me answers." His response sounded tempered and clinical, but Tiamat could feel the underlying tension just by the way he ran his fingers over his pocket, where she knew Riptide waited.

"What if they can't give you Thanatos? What then?"

"We'll… I'll cross that bridge once I get there."

"That's a stupid plan."

Percy turned to look at her. "Yeah, I know."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "They are _primordial gods_. Whatever it is you fought in the past—"

"Was worse," he said. "He was worse."

Tiamat didn't doubt that he sincerely believed what he was saying. What she did doubt was his understanding of primordial gods.

Though maybe that wasn't the case. He had told her about _"putting Hades in his place_," which, if true, wasn't an insignificant feat that she could overlook. Even when they first met, he had struck her as dangerous, something Riptide had made sure to burn into her brain.

Was it possible for a human demigod to fight—_and win_—against someone like Hades? Like many of the strongest beings, the death god's appearance belied the threat he posed.

It was best to assume that the Hades from Percy's home reality was different from the Hades of this reality, if not fundamentally, then in some periphery aspect.

She didn't think Percy was lying. He still had a lot to learn about this reality, so ignorance of the norm was fair.

"Are you worried?" Percy questioned with a hint of confusion.

"Worried? No, I'm not worried," Tiamat said quickly.

"I mean, it kinda sounded like you were worried."

"I'm not worried."

Percy held his hands up in surrender. "All right, fine—I mean you definitely sounded—"

"I'm not."

"It's okay if you are. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I know… but I'm not worried."

"Mhm. If you insist."

Rolling her eyes, Tiamat started walking along the edge of the River Lethe. Percy was forced into a jog to catch up with her. By the time he reached her side, the mist was already starting to close around them again, stealing sight of everything except the river on their left.

They went downstream in silence. Tiamat made sure to keep a reasonable distance between her and the River Lethe.

It wasn't long until the Lethe began to widen. Where once Tiamat could have jumped over it with no effort, the river soon grew into something properly intimidating, notwithstanding the clear waters and lack of moaning, groaning, spitting, or steaming. The Lethe was a calm type of danger, truly keeping in line with the Netherworld's ambiance.

Some time passed before Percy spoke again.

"Look, Tiamat…"

"I'm not worried," she said with a sigh.

"What? Oh… no, I just… I just wanna thank you for doing this."

"Doing what?"

Percy stopped. "Bringing me down here. And helping me get back once I'm done. I really do appreciate it."

Tiamat also stopped. She turned around and eyed him carefully. Sometimes it felt like she had known him for much longer than just two weeks. Hearing genuine gratitude from him was oddly alien. "You're welcome."

She didn't think the worst of him. Not really. He had thanked her just a few days ago as well, when they had brought the Leviathan girl to his home for safekeeping. It wasn't as if he refused to look beyond his ego. She could appreciate that in powerful people.

They kept walking. Tiamat watched him from the corner of her eye. "What exactly is your history with Hades? You met him in your reality, right?"

Percy almost missed his next step. He stalled for just a moment before catching himself and pressing on. He met her gaze, only to look away soon after.

"He kidnapped my mom when I was twelve."

"Ah." Tiamat blinked. "I can see why you might feel hostile towards him."

"That's not all… but that's the main reason I don't like him."

"Why did he take her?"

"He was a bitter god who had a grudge against me for being born. He thought I took something from him, so he took something from me."

Tiamat nodded slowly. "I suppose your disdain for gods isn't entirely baseless."

Percy sighed ruefully and shook his head. "Hades is just one example."

"What about me?"

"You… well, you're the only dragon I've ever actually had a conversation with, so... you've got that going for you."

"I'm honored to have been your first talking dragon. Broadening horizons is something I strive to do."

"Consider my horizons broadened, then." Percy gave her a small smile. "Thanks again for that."

"My pleasure," Tiamat smirked and pushed some hair away from her nose. "If you survive this, I'll bring out that wine you liked so much from the other night."

"The godly stuff?"

"The very same. When the Leviathan girl awakens, we can include her as well."

"Hopefully she'll wake up soon. If she doesn't..." Percy rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I feel bad for leaving her alone."

"It was your choice."

He scoffed. "I hardly had a choice. Thanatos is dangerous. Too dangerous." He pursed his lips. "Wait, what do you mean 'if' I survive? I think you mean 'when we get back.'"

"I know what I said, and I said what I meant. You managed to get away from Hades unscathed, which is more of a testament to his patience than your tact, because let's face it, you're tactless. How much faith are you going to put in other gods to have the same kind of restraint that Hades displayed?"

Percy contemplated her words, seemingly rolling them over in his mind as they continued to follow the river.

Tiamat watched him more closely. That he hadn't stopped walking again was telling. That the Lethe grew somewhat more restless in the minutes of their quiet journey was also telling.

It was during this time that the mist began to thin. The sound of rushing water rose to meet her ears, becoming sharper and sharper as the mist scattered.

Finally, as they seemingly stepped through the final barrier of the Netherworld's fog, the path before them was bared. What was left of the path, at least. In front of them was a small clearing that led to the edge of a cliff. Beyond the cliff was an expanse of red and orange.

The Lethe didn't only flow down and off the cliff. It also flowed upward. It also flowed outward. From where they stood, they could also see the other four rivers doing the same, moving into the infinite red and orange.

"Uh…" Percy's voice sounded distantly surprised. "Tiamat… what am I looking at?"

"The nine layers before entering the Abyss." She could hardly fault him for finding the red and orange breathtaking. The view was hypnotic, powerful. "We're at the fringe of creation. Beyond this expanse is nothing and never. Or perhaps it is your reality. Or perhaps it is a completely alien reality. Beyond the expanse is everything and always, I suppose."

"Cool."

"You could certainly look at it that way."

"So… how are we supposed to find Nyx and Erebus?" he asked, turning left and right. "I don't see any signs for us to follow."

"They only appear if you spin around three times and quack like a duck."

He gave her a dry look. "I wasn't born yesterday."

From behind them, a new voice added itself to their conversation. "She's right, actually. That's the only way."

Tiamat and Percy spun around in unison. Standing at the foot of the fog wall they had just escaped from, a primordial. One of the same they had come for.

"Nyx," Tiamat greeted.

The god nodded in acknowledgment. She had come in her preferred form, reflected as a younger girl in a dark dress and yellow cloak. "Tiamat. I see you brought the anomaly with you. What a pleasant surprise." She went on to consider Percy with evident curiosity. "I am Nyx."

"I'm Percy. Nice to meet you, I guess." He lifted his hand to greet her.

Nyx covered her mouth and laughed. "Was that supposed to be your interpretation of a charming introduction? How disappointing." She reached up and tugged at the fur-lined hood of her cloak, dropping it and letting her black hair spill free. "I had been hoping Tiamat's newest lover—an anomaly—might be impressive in some way. She always did pick the strangest of bedfellows, though hardly any of them were suitable for a dragon such as herself."

Percy's mouth became taut. He looked at Tiamat, a question in his eyes.

For her part, Tiamat could only shrug. She didn't know why Nyx immediately assumed they had that kind of relationship. Hades had vaguely implied something similar.

Realization was quick to dawn on her. Gods and dragons rarely associated themselves with mortals. Moreover, they certainly did _not_ form teams with mortals. If a god was with a mortal, it usually meant they shared a more amorous connection. Love did not have to be a factor; lust was much more likely.

That could be said for many of the world's most powerful beings.

"That's where I have to disagree with you," Tiamat said, speaking before Percy could open his mouth. "He's actually quite impressive in some ways. After all, he was the one who decided to come down to this miserable place in search of your son. And even after meeting Hades, he chose to continue."

"Is that right?" Nyx swapped to appraising Percy again. "A demigod… That's actually interesting in its own right… Ah…" Her expression sharpened. "You are… So that's it… Strange…"

Percy gave Tiamat another sideways glance, then looked at Nyx. "I hate to sound pushy, but would you mind telling me where to find Thanatos? See, Hades can't contact him with his magic fireplace, and he thinks you might be hiding him."

"Thanatos? He is doing his duty: guiding souls on Earth. What do you want with him?"

"I just wanna talk."

Nyx's gaze fell to Percy's side, trained on his waist, and remained there for a long while. She sighed and shook her head. "Does this have anything to do with why he came to me with a severed arm?"

"It might," Percy said. He coughed into his fist. "Maybe. No promises."

Tiamat frowned. She hadn't heard of anything regarding Thanatos' arm. Had Percy managed to injure him so severely?

"It does," Nyx pressed. "I know it does. Are you really trying to lie when it's so obvious?" she sighed.

"If it was obvious, why'd you have to ask?"

Tiamat smiled at the flicker of aggravation on Nyx's face. It was fun to watch Percy talk to gods. It was less fun to be the one he was talking to. Personal experience told her exactly how Nyx felt.

With what seemed to be an enormous effort, Nyx trained her expression back into something calmer. "Are you accusing me of something, Percy?"

He put his hands in his pockets. "Well… yes and no."

She waved at him in mock invitation. "Please, share your thoughts."

Percy gladly accepted. "All right. Let's start with the biggest point… I think you're telling the truth. Thanatos isn't here. That said, I think you can bring him here. Or, at the very least, you can take me to him."

"Surprisingly enough, you aren't wrong on any of those counts," Nyx said.

"I'm glad to hear that. So… I don't suppose you'd be willing to call him and ask him to come on down?"

"You're right, I'm not very willing." She smiled. "Not without something in return."

He squinted and slid his foot back an inch. "What do you want? I've got a gift card for Whole Foods. You can get some kombucha… if that's your thing."

Tiamat narrowed her eyes. She didn't know what Percy was playing at, but she doubted it would work. Nyx was too old, too experienced, and too aware. Taking advantage of her would be nearly impossible.

Whether Percy knew remained to be seen.

Nyx's smile widened. "You seem confident you can give me something of value."

"You wouldn't have said anything if you thought I had nothing to offer."

"It appears I underestimated you," Nyx snickered. "Yes, there is one thing I think you can give me. And in exchange, I'll give you my son."

"Your family bond would make anybody jealous."

"He is more than capable of cleaning up his own mess. You may be a stranger to this reality, but you are still beneath him."

"Fair enough. What do you want in exchange?"

"Your fealty."

"My _fealty_?" Percy replied, testing the word on his tongue.

"Yes. Your loyalty and fidelity to uphold me as your only master." Nyx tossed her head back and laughed. "Don't get the wrong idea, though. This isn't romance or anything of the sort. I just think it would be fun having a demigod anomaly to kneel before me and wait for my next command. I haven't had devoted followers in _ages_, you know? My cult was always a small one, and it was mostly eradicated with the spread of Christianity. Mortals simply don't fear or respect the night as much as they used to. My children only visit me when they need help. Do you know what it's like, being a god who is practically ignored by the modern world? It's tragic."

Tiamat nodded along. "It's true. I haven't been deified for thousands of years… it's too tragic to even talk about."

"Uh… sorry to hear that," Percy said awkwardly. "I can't relate, but still, it sounds kinda sad."

"Very tragic," Nyx repeated.

"That said, I can't give you fealty."

Nyx pretended to swoon. "Even though I was just teasing you a little, when you reject me so brusquely, I feel like my heart is going to break. How did Tiamat go about snatching and claiming you? Does she have your fealty?"

_Snatching and claiming?_ Tiamat wondered at the implications, though she could hardly say those implications weren't all true.

At the very least, she was hoping to inherit Riptide when Percy died. She was in no rush to do so, though. The best-case scenario for Percy was that he lived another century. The worst-case was a few more minutes. Either way, Tiamat could stand to wait.

"Teasing? I know you look young, but aren't you supposed to be an ancient, decrepit god of darkness? The personification of the night?"

"Decrepit? Well, that was certainly unnecessary. You could have just called me ancient and wise. Sagely, I would have accepted." Nyx scratched her forehead, frowning. "Are you bullying me because of what I said?"

"Just a little."

"Your gall…" Nyx clapped her hands together with controlled glee. "Your gall is so refreshing!" She frowned. "Too bad you seem set on meeting your death so soon. I would have liked to pick your brain."

"I have a habit of disappointing people." Percy brought Riptide out from his pocket and spun it between his fingers. "But I can pen you into my schedule later. Can we talk about it after I deal with Thanatos?"

Nyx shook her head. "You're a bit slow, aren't you? What I'm saying is that—if you came to fight Thanatos—you will die. You should reconsider your position."

"Thanatos tried to kill me, and he put a lot of innocent people in danger in the process. I won't give him a chance to do it again. That's my position; I can't afford to reconsider."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Nyx turned to Tiamat. "Did you come down here to help him?"

"I wouldn't have helped even if he had asked. Surprisingly enough, he never asked," Tiamat said. She stepped away. "This isn't my battle. It's his."

"He's a fool." With a wave of her fingers, Nyx carved a glowing communication sigil into the air.

Tiamat knew she couldn't argue. For the most part, she expected Percy to die.

A smaller part disagreed.

She would only have to wait and watch.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Tiamat and Percy wandered away from Nyx as she held a low-toned conversation through her sigil.

They strafed close to the cliff that signified the end of the Netherworld. The Lethe floated off into the nine layers, its rushing water sounding duller than a river on Earth despite how close they had come to it. The other rivers also twisted and spiraled out into the infinite red and orange.

Percy's eyes lingered on the middlemost river.

The River Styx.

He stared at the river with a singular intensity Tiamat had only seen him carry once before, during their first meeting. His earlier dourness returned in full, and it became hard to draw any comparison between his typical nonchalance and this quiet severity.

"Do you trust her?" Tiamat asked from her place beside him.

"No," Percy said after a moment. He didn't stop staring at the coiling Styx. His eyes didn't so much as twitch.

"Smart."

A soft hum of agreement was all he offered.

"Are you going to kill Thanatos?" she asked.

"I'm going to do what I have to do."

"Your odds aren't good."

"They never are. But I haven't let that stop me before."

Tiamat nodded. At this point, he must have been going out of his way to stoke her curiosity. He was the archetypal mysterious stranger, complete with a dark past and odd sense of humor. Whatever had happened in his reality…

She wanted to know. Of course she did. And, eventually, she was sure she would find out. If not everything, then at least more than she knew now.

Still, there was something she _needed_ to know right now.

"If you die, can I take Riptide?"

Percy finally looked at her, the intensity wiped clean off his face. She expected to find disbelief or annoyance. All she saw, though, was contemplation.

Eventually, he shrugged. "Sure. I won't need it if I'm dead."

She blinked. Admittedly, that was not what she had been expecting to hear. Was he teasing her? No, he looked serious, and the way he phrased himself made it sound like he meant every word.

Well, Tiamat wasn't about to ask him to clarify his meaning on the small chance that she had misunderstood. While she would have taken Riptide regardless, having his consent somehow put her mind more at ease. She was many things—a common thief not being among them.

"Thank you," she said cautiously.

Percy was just turning to face the River Styx again when a new presence entered the clearing. He froze, and the grim intensity returned to him.

Out from a bubble of clotted shadows came Thanatos, drifting just a few centimeters above the ground. His robes billowed in a non-existent gale. The mask he wore was reflective silver, not in the shape of a goat skull, but rather a human skull. In his arms was cradled his scythe, simple, made of dark metal.

He traded a few indistinguishable words with Nyx, who pointed explicitly at Percy.

Thanatos dipped his head in greeting. "I suppose I should be impressed. Never did I imagine you would come here just to meet me again. Bold of you."

Percy walked toward the center of the clearing. He took his time with each step. "You didn't leave me much choice. I had a question for you, and you never gave me your phone number or e-mail." He made a point of looking at Thanatos' scythe. "Nice arm, by the way."

"Asclepius owes me many favors," Thanatos said. "A severed arm is simple enough for him to reattach. It won't happen again." His mask followed Percy. "What was your question? I'll make it a point—as an apology—to answer what you ask."

"All I want to know is why you attacked me."

"Why? I thought that was obvious," Thanatos hefted his scythe. "Your soul is long, _long_ overdue to move on. I was only doing my duty. Why you persist with your mortal coil is beyond my understanding. You should have died years ago."

"That's probably true. But if you wanted to kill me, you should have done it when you had the upper hand."

"Yes, I see that now."

Percy cocked his head. "So it was all a coincidence?"

Silence met them all.

Thanatos grunted. "Yes. Yes, of course."

Nyx stepped away from the two and darted high into the air. She perched herself far above them, hovering on nothing, watching with crossed arms and shadowed eyes.

"What will you do now?" Thanatos asked. "You traveled here, to this place of no return, for what?"

"You know why I'm here," Percy said.

"I suppose I do."

"Why did _you_ come? I'm sure Nyx told you what was going on—who wanted to meet you. I mean, you didn't seem very surprised to see me."

"I came… I came because it was the only possible course of action. My first thought after I retreated was that I had made some kind of error. That your soul was not meant for the Netherworld yet. I resolved to put you out of my mind and leave the encounter behind me. But my resolve is weak, and I could not stop wondering about you. I would have sought you out again. It's better that we could meet like this."

"Then it's a good thing I went through the trouble of looking for you first," Percy said. He paced around Thanatos. "You would have put a lot of people at risk. You already did."

Thanatos allowed his head to drop. "Yes. A mistake on my part, to be sure. Keeping the balance does not entail me endangering living mortals. I was sure to keep from using too much of my strength." He looked at Percy. "Before we continue, would you indulge me? I have a question of my own."

"Depends on the question."

"Then… How did you stop my scythe from cutting you? Not even your soul..."

"Magic."

"I see." Thanatos sounded disappointed. "What keeps you anchored to life?"

"I don't know."

"You—"

"I'm being honest. I have no clue. Luck, I guess. I was always pretty lucky."

Thanatos shifted his scythe, readying it. "Fortune favors the bold. With how bold you are, I can see why your fortunes would be favorable."

Percy nodded. "That's one way to look at it." He also prepared himself, though he had yet to draw Riptide in sword form. "You ready?"

"Death is mercy." Thanatos allowed them both a few more seconds to breathe. "Whatever it is that holds you to life, cast it aside. I will set you free."

"Would you mind going easy on me? I'm only human, after all."

With a chuckle, Thanatos said, "Death is the only fair thing about life. I suppose it's also my duty to be fair. Despite what happened before, I'm more than willing to give you a fighting chance."

Beside her, Tiamat noticed the Lethe growing more restless. She took to the sky, coming to float right in front of the fog wall that separated them from the rest of the Netherworld.

And then, almost as if they had been waiting just for her, Thanatos and Percy moved. In a flash, Riptide met Thanatos' scythe, and an ungodly screech thundered from the contact followed closely by a gust of warm wind.

Tiamat watched as Thanatos quickly gained control over the flow of battle. The whistle of his scythe cutting through the air reached her ears, despite how far away she had gotten. Certainly, with her hearing as it was, she would not have been able to listen in on any conversation they carried.

But the scythe's hiss still resonated.

Thanatos continued to drive forward, and it was all Percy could do to defend himself, to keep from losing a limb, or to keep from losing his life. The steady rhythm of weapons clashing, of metal slamming against metal, soon deafened her to all else.

When Percy tried to counter after a particularly well-executed parry, Thanatos dashed back, dodging without a glance behind him. The reaper's speed was nothing short of incredible.

They met again, and with a flick, Thanatos reversed course on his scythe's arc. Percy barely leaned away in time to save his head from being bisected, but doing so allowed the reaper to thrust the butt of his scythe into Percy's ribs, knocking him back a good deal.

Recovering, Percy's quick foot-work let him slide out of the way of another incoming attack, to which he again riposted. Thanatos moved away in a flash, and Percy was left swinging through empty air.

_You fool_. Bitterly, Tiamat felt compelled to chastise Percy from afar. _You can't keep going like this._

What in the world was he thinking? She only wished she knew, because even from this distance, and with only glimpses caught between the short lapses through their battle, Percy's expression remained one of concentration.

It was inevitable that Percy was disarmed. In a burst of strength, Thanatos swung his scythe hard enough to completely wrench Riptide from Percy's hands, knocking him far back in the process. When Percy stood again, the lower section of his jacket hung loosely, apparently having been cut by the projected force of Thanatos' attack.

But, somehow, Percy himself seemed perfectly intact.

The two exchanged words for a brief moment. Thanatos attacked again, and Percy scrambled away from the scythe as it carved a trench in the dirt. Retreating was all he could do now.

Water filled the trench, almost as if Thanatos had split the ground enough to strike at an aquifer. Percy continued to dance around Thanatos' scythe, often only just avoiding death by the skin of his teeth. Without his sword, there was little else he could do. He wisely avoided any attempt at fighting with his arms or legs.

Though, if anything could be said, it would be that Percy seemed perfectly fine retreating. He avoided the scythe each time it came for him, more and more trenches opened by the blade until there was no more space to dodge. Thanatos had led him to the edge of the River Lethe.

_Don't tell me… _

From her angle, she saw what Thanatos couldn't. The river rippled in one spot, not far from where Percy stood, refusing to follow the natural flow of water into the red and orange expanse of everything.

Again, the two spoke. Percy seemed to shrug, gesturing to where Riptide lay, a wry smile crossing his face. He nodded to something Thanatos said. Thanatos nodded in return and ran a hand over the shaft of his scythe. An elemental sigil burned to life; electricity sparked across his weapon, and he wielded the power of lightning in his hands.

The tell-tale reek of ozone permeated the clearing.

Tiamat frowned. She wondered if Thanatos had been reluctant to use magic out of some sense of honor. Strange that he would use it now, to deal the final blow, rather than as a prelude. Or maybe it was confidence in his own abilities.

Either way, she doubted Percy could survive what came next. It was honestly excessive.

But before Thanatos could lift his scythe to end it all, something shifted within the Lethe.

Percy raised his hand, then signaled with his fingers. Something was spat from the river, spinning in the air, whistling madly as it whirled over his head, aimed straight at Thanatos.

Thanatos reacted immediately. He sprang back, moving far faster than the spinning object.

It was his speed that became his undoing. From one of the many gouges in the ground, directly in the path which Thanatos took to retreat, a mass of water had silently risen.

Angled and positioned, the mass took the shape of a long spike.

Thanatos ran himself through.

The spike entered the center of his back and exited by way of his heart. His momentum carried him further, and the water lost shape, allowing him to topple head over heels.

It took him a few moments to stir, heaped upon himself as he was.

By then, more sharpened water had already descended on him from the other gouges he had created, like spearheaded tentacles of an angry squid.

The reaper was impaled a dozen different ways—pinned in place like a macabre statue—undoubtedly dead by virtue of his wounds.

Percy curled his hand into a fist. The ground ballooned, depressed, then erupted in a spray with deafening force, swallowing whatever remained of Thanatos and dragging it away into the Lethe's main body. Percy was left standing on a strip of land, the river behind him, and a new pond in front of him. The clearing had nearly been turned into an extension of the river. Most of it had exploded.

Tiamat descended from her position on high. She made sure no puddles remained, only touching down when she was positive the Lethe's water was adequately contained.

Idly massaging his shoulder, Percy looked none the worse for wear. A few noticeable beads of sweat gathered around his temples, and his jacket was somewhat torn, but that was all. No blood, no significant damage.

He nodded at her once she had gotten close enough. Then his eyes went to her immediate left, where Nyx appeared from a shell of darkness.

They stared at each other.

"My son's actions brought consequences, and because of that, I'll let you leave this place with your life," Nyx said. Her tone was glacial. "But if I ever see you again, I promise, I'll kill you."

"Good thing I don't plan on ever coming back," Percy said. His expression sank, the intensity being replaced by heavy fatigue again. "Sorry… For whatever that's worth to you. I may have gone too far."

Nyx only glared harder. "Don't think you can live without consequences yourself." She turned away. "What you've done… And for what? Stupid boy. I hope you kill yourself on your next quest for vengeance—_suffocate_ like an infant on its umbilical cord. Choke on your stubbornness and pride. The world doesn't need you, you wretched creature. You should have stayed in your reality."

And then she was gone.

"Yeah… that's fair…"

Tiamat shook her head. "We should leave," she told Percy. "She'll probably make good on her promise if we stay too long."

He sighed and wiped the sweat away from his face. "Sure, let's get out of here. I hate this place anyway."

Stepping close, she smiled at him. "You impressed me. Thanatos didn't stand a chance. Turning him into a pincushion was a bit much, though."

Percy rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I just needed to be sure. I went too far, but... He could have killed me. I got him because he still underestimated me, and because he had no clue what I could really do. That's the thing with gods: they don't learn their lessons very easily. They'll believe whatever they want to believe without taking reality into account."

"Did you say something to Thanatos during the fight?"

"I may have mentioned that Riptide was an ancient and powerful weapon that let me fight at the level of gods."

"Because how else would a no-name child match a god…" Tiamat found herself chuckling at the simple manipulation, and how effective it had been. It wouldn't work forever, though. Once Percy became more renowned, fewer and fewer people would underestimate him. "He let his guard down after disarming you. Impressive." She glanced around at the lengthening shadows. "We'll definitely talk more once we get back. I hope you trust me enough to answer a few questions that are burning holes in my brain."

"You probably deserve some answers," he agreed. "It's the least I could do since you helped me out with this mess."

Tiamat thought it sounded fair, though she knew humans could be oddly fickle about trust and friendship. Either way, she was glad that her patience was finally about to pay off.

* * *

**Author Note: Hey all, thanks for waiting patiently for this chapter, and thanks for the reviews, follows, favorites, and the usual show of support. **

**This chapter could have been longer. I was halfway through writing the fight between Percy and Thanatos when I realized how unnecessary it was to draw out for too long, not to mention how it wouldn't exactly fit how I've written Percy. I know I slip on character consistency sometimes (it's really tough, and any author who can pull it off for an entire series has my respect), but I felt like this section was too important. Plus, thematically, I think it makes more sense to deny everybody involved a solid sense of catharsis. **

**All that said, I think Thanatos is quite strong in DxD. I think he was portrayed as a bit battle-hungry in Volume 24, and he definitely proved to be more than confident in his ability to fight Issei in Partial Dragon Deification, so I don't think it's a stretch to imagine him giving Percy a fair shake despite having lost an arm. I think he could have been a good ally to curb the most dangerous of Hades' ideas, both in canon and this story, but... **

**Without Thanatos, the "political" scenery of the Netherworld will change to suit more of what Hades wants, now that Orcus is the only other major player. The future is uncertain.**

**Hope you all continue to stay safe out there.**

**Thanks for reading. **


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Kindness and cruelty are not mutually exclusive. Be careful, and never fall into the trap of thinking that you can do no wrong.

-_Quote attributed to Chiron, Mentor of Heroes_

* * *

Percy opened the door to his room. He had come here first, even before stopping to clean the sweat and dirt from his face, half-expecting to find Ingvild dead or missing.

Thankfully, his worst fear was just plain old paranoia. Ingvild slept deeply, still snuggled beneath the duvet and curled in on herself. She looked about as peaceful as she had before he had gone to the Netherworld. And she still snored like a motorcycle. Everything seemed fine.

He scanned the corners of the room, just in case.

Entering, he went over to kneel beside Ingvild. Hand on her shoulder, he tried to wake her up again with a shake. A snore for his effort was all he got.

"Fine, be that way." He stood and, after gathering a new set of clothes, left for the bathroom. He left the bedroom door cracked open.

Inside the bathroom, he ran cold water from the faucet and scrubbed his face. Taking a shower would have been nice, but Tiamat was waiting for him. Later, he promised himself. He really wasn't all that dirty anyway.

Deftly, he pulled off his torn shirt, wincing as a phantom ache blossomed across his gut. He checked the skin there more closely—it was the same place where Thanatos' projected cut had struck him—but he didn't see any visible sign of damage. The curse of the Styx had protected him from the worst of that attack. It couldn't save him from everything, true, but it was more than enough to save him from even the sharpest scythe.

Experience taught him that.

He rubbed the back of his shoulder and winced. Getting hung up on the past was a mistake. It was making him needlessly miserable. He knew that.

The past didn't want to let him go, though.

The past was kind of scary in that way.

As he swapped his rumpled clothes for what he'd brought with him, the ache lessened. He thought back to Thanatos' question. Well, the two questions, though they were practically in the same vein.

When Kronos had killed him with Backbiter for the first time, Percy didn't think his soul could be affected by time. Souls didn't strike him as being bound by the laws of time or space, after all.

But he had been brought back… and then Kronos had killed him again.

Souls were weird. If Thanatos' scythe could cut the soul like Kronos', then Percy wasn't sure what to think about the state of his soul now.

Mild aches and pains were hardly anything to write home about, though. Maybe he really _had_ become geriatric, coming down with a bad case of arthritis at some point.

If only he were so lucky. A herniated disk would be the least of his troubles at any given point.

Percy looked at himself in the mirror again.

_Yeesh, Tiamat was right. I look rough. _

With a flick, he sent Riptide spinning through the air, catching it between two fingers only a second later. Even now that the pressing threat of Thanatos was dealt with, he wouldn't be able to let his guard down. Both Hades and Nyx were dangerous, and he wouldn't put it past them to come looking for revenge, especially considering how poetic it would be, universally speaking.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. Nyx knew a lot more about him now that she'd seen him fight. She didn't know everything, but she knew more than Thanatos had.

That was… not great. It wasn't terrible, either, but it really wasn't good.

There were never any good choices to make. This time, he hadn't even had a choice. Thanatos admitted he would have returned if Percy hadn't gone looking for him.

It had to be this way.

This was for the best. Thanatos had actually been much easier to fight than he had been expecting, too.

That said, he didn't think there would have been a fight at all if they had been by ordinary water. The River Lethe had resisted his control, oddly enough, which he'd noticed all the way back at Hades' temple, and which had thrown his first plan way off-kilter. He had needed to buy time so he could finally control the river's water properly.

Why the Lethe had resisted was still beyond him. He hadn't had that much trouble even with the Styx back in his timeline, nor when he'd first controlled the Lethe during his battle with Iapetus.

Percy flexed his hand. The water all throughout the building blipped on his metaphoric radar, proving that his powers weren't on the fritz.

He looked down at Riptide.

"And you're still with me, too."

Percy didn't need to take the cap off his pen. He could still feel the leather fitted into his palm.

"Thanks for sticking around."

He pocketed Riptide, threw his old clothes into the hamper by the door, and walked out into the living room. The blinds had been drawn closed in his bedroom, but here they were wide open, and bright sunshine reflected from the nearby buildings to light up much of his apartment.

"Ingvild is still asleep," he announced upon entering the living room.

"We weren't gone for that long," Tiamat reminded him from her position on the farthest sofa. She had already busted out the drinks if the pitcher on the coffee table was any indication. There was also dried meat set out on a big platter, which Percy assumed was from her own stock. "I can examine her once we finish here. My experience with this particular illness is practically nonexistent, though. I think the best option we have is asking Ajuka."

"Buckletot?"

"Beetlejuice—I mean—Beelzebub," Tiamat caught her mistake quickly, but gave him a small glare regardless. "Stop that. You weren't even close and you know it."

"Close enough," he said, sitting on the sofa nearest to hers.

"Not really."

"Come on, it was close."

"If you're in this kind of mood right now, I shudder to think what some alcohol will do to you," she grumbled playfully.

"There's only one way to find out." Percy reached out for one of the decorated cups on the table. It was only half-filled, but he remembered how strong this stuff was. He took a sip. The edges of his vision wavered, and his world slowly started tilting to the left. He put the cup down and whistled. "Dangerous."

"Too true." Tiamat also sipped. "Would you mind if I started?"

He shook his head, sure that he would have to turn down some of her questions just on personal preference.

Tiamat let her eyes wander. She must have looked him up and down a few times before even opening her mouth, and when she did, she thought better of whatever she was about to ask and stayed quiet. After another drink from her cup, she finally settled on something.

"Why are you here?"

Percy scrunched his face. "What do you mean?"

Tiamat's fingers drummed slowly along the length of her cup. "Why did you come here? What brought you here—to this reality?"

He smiled bitterly. "I didn't choose to come here, and I don't know why I'm here. Honestly, I don't. I'll be real with you… I should be dead. I'm not, but I should be."

"I'm not one to say otherwise, but maybe you should be more grateful for the life you have," said Tiamat.

"No, I wasn't trying to be a buzz-kill or overly dramatic or anything. I mean I literally should be dead."

Tiamat ran the nail of her thumb over an arched eyebrow. "Thanatos said your soul is overdue. He said you should have died years ago. Was he right?"

"He was spot on." Already seeing the next question, Percy said, "Sit back and relax; I'm gonna have to give you an abridged version of what happened if you want any hope of understanding."

"Well then, allow me to get comfortable." Tiamat adjusted herself so she could lie on her stomach. Using her elbows to prop up the front of her body, she smiled prettily at him. "Much obliged."

"I'll keep it short," Percy promised. "You already know I'm a demigod. You probably already know that I'm a Greek demigod. And you know I'm not from this timeline. That saves me the trouble of explaining a few things."

"Go on."

Percy drank from his cup again. He blinked hard to get rid of the headiness that slammed into his senses. "You've heard of Kronos, right? King of the Titans. Lord of Time. Cannibal grandpa. I'm sure you have. Anyway, he'd spent a few thousand years rotting in Tartarus before returning for revenge against the Olympians. We—the demigods, I mean—tried to warn the gods, but they dragged their feet for a few years before doing anything big. That sucked."

"I assume that's where you learned to be more proactive," Tiamat said.

"Maybe," he agreed, eyes wandering to her crossed legs. Was his face already going a bit numb? Was he looking at her too much? It gave him something else to think about, at least. "Uh, anyway, it took some time, but eventually, Kronos gathered enough strength to attack New York. There weren't many of us defending. While he did that, Typhon—the big storm monster guy—was also on his way to New York, marching over from the west. The Olympians focused on him at first, but when Kronos got closer to his goal, a few came to help us in the city. They died. Typhon killed a few more in Nebraska and Kentucky."

"Why New York?"

"Olympus was above the Empire State Building. Kronos wanted to destroy Olympus. It all adds up."

"Ah. So, Kronos won?"

"Not exactly. He was never able to attain his full power. Somehow, the body his soul was being hosted by lasted long enough for us to take advantage of his mortal limits. The last thing I remember was when my friends and I were making our last stand, then, it was just Kronos and me. My friends were just... gone. _Poof_. He never told me what happened, but if I had to guess, it would be that he jumped ship into a new timeline. He lost. And he took it out on me."

Percy didn't have as much information as Kronos did. Only the Titan would know why he did what he did.

Still, it wouldn't make sense for Kronos to give up when he'd been so close to winning. Not unless he hadn't been able to win. Percy assumed the Titan had gone through more timelines, but failed in each of them. It might have had something to do with still being Luke's body.

"What happened then?"

Percy blinked. "He killed me." Backbiter flashed through his mind. "Every time he killed me, I woke up where we started in that first branched timeline. And he killed me again. Rinse, repeat. It was just the two of us for... for a long time..." He shrugged. "Until I killed him. After that… I don't remember. I ended up in Heaven."

Tiamat stopped lounging, rising to sit up properly. "The fact that you're here—alive—must mean something." She rubbed the side of her head thoughtfully. "How long did it take until you finally managed to kill Kronos? I imagine it took a few tries."

"Years, probably. It felt like years, at least."

"Years," Tiamat repeated. She pursed her lips. "I suppose your skill with a blade makes sense in that case. Was Kronos really so powerful that he could exert his will upon you for so long?"

"Yes."

"How did you kill him?" she asked.

He felt his eye twitch. "That..." Percy cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty palms against his shorts. "That doesn't really matter. He's dead. Definitely dead."

Tiamat squinted. "Hm. Before, you mentioned a prophecy going unfulfilled?"

Percy scoffed. "_A half-blood of the eldest gods shall reach sixteen against all odds_—_Olympus to preserve or raze. _It went something like that."

"You weren't the half-blood?"

"Prophecies are…" Percy could have settled on a dozen different words to sum up his opinion. "Prophecies have a tendency to work out in weird ways. I thought I was the half-blood—at least until my sixteenth birthday passed without the world ending. I was nineteen by the time Kronos attacked. My pal Nico, on the other hand, turned sixteen on that very day."

"With Kronos content to kill you, perhaps Olympus was preserved in some way? In your original timeline, I mean." Tiamat, if anything, sounded troubled by the possibility.

"That could be true," he said skeptically. "As far as I know, he never destroyed the Olympians' seats of power, though more than half of them ended up dying to either him or Typhon. I guess they could reform… if Typhon didn't destroy Olympus regardless."

"Improbable," Tiamat said.

"But possible," Percy finished.

They drank in unison.

Tiamat wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, sighing heavily. She scratched at her eyebrow and gave him a pitiful look. "You bear… much."

Maybe the drink was getting to him, but he couldn't help chuckling. He thought it was an understatement. His head almost felt too heavy to keep upright. "Honestly, I don't even think I can argue with you there."

She hummed noncommittally. "You know," Tiamat said, "since we're being honest and whatnot, I'll let you in on a little secret."

Percy wondered if the alcohol was getting to her too. He knew it was hitting him pretty hard. Still, he nodded and waved her along. "Feel free to share. We're all friends here."

"It's a little embarrassing to admit. Don't take it personally."

"Hey, when you say something like that, I get the urge to take it personally."

"I urge you to fight that urge."

"Oof. Too late. I am in... unending pain... all thanks to you."

"Why is it that I... sincerely doubt that... you strange boy?"

"I get the feeling you're mocking me."

"Oh, my apologies," Tiamat covered her mouth in shock. "I assumed you were trying to create a bad haiku. Playing along seemed natural."

"No, sorry, poetry isn't my thing."

She shook her head at him, smiling all the same. "I'll just get on with it." Reaching out, she took some meat from the table and tossed it into her mouth, chewing noisily as she spoke. "I half-expected you to die in the Netherworld. The odds were so far from favoring you that I almost can't believe you're still alive. To say that I'm impressed would be quite the understatement."

Percy leaned forward, already sitting at the edge of the sofa, and clasped his hands together. "No offense taken. I'm used to being the underdog."

"And I see you've managed to weaponize it. Very smart."

_Weaponize it._ The way she spoke made Percy wonder if she was actually praising him. It didn't sound patronizing, which helped make the case.

"Regardless of all that..." Tiamat rubbed her cheek, her expression softening even further, gaze directed at his hands. "You must miss your home."

"I... Uh... I mean, yeah... I try not to think about it. No point, I guess."

"What happened to you wasn't fair."

"Yeah... I know."

"Family?"

Percy looked away from her. He shook his head. "I don't know what happened to them. Maybe they got away. Maybe they did. Maybe. Well... Yeah... Maybe..."

It was wishful thinking, but the alternative was too ugly to think about. If his original timeline still existed, and if Typhon hadn't made it to Manhattan, maybe they were still alive.

Hopefully.

All he could do was hope at this point. He wasn't going to fool himself into thinking he could ever go back to that timeline.

Gods, his throat hurt. He quickly finished the rest of his drink, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his stomach turned. He shuddered. His throat was even drier now.

Tiamat pushed herself off the sofa.

"I'm going to check on the girl."

Percy looked up at her, blinking until the words registered properly. When they did, he nodded gratefully. Even if she couldn't cure Ingvild, it was the thought that counted—at least in his opinion. The gods from his timeline probably wouldn't have taken the time even if he'd asked them to.

She skirted around the edge of his sofa to pass behind him. Her blue hair was the last thing he saw before she disappeared.

Beautiful blue hair.

He remembered he'd thought the same thing the last time they'd shared a drink like this.

_Of course it would be her. I guess my luck only goes so_ _far._

Just as he was about to close his eyes, he felt a gentle hand rest itself on his shoulder. With him being positioned leaning forward, she'd had to go out of her way and stretch just to reach, and he couldn't help but tense at her considerate touch.

Neither of them said a word.

The hand told him enough.

Strange how a few hours in the Netherworld could make him appreciate the few friends he had.

Maybe the best friend he had.

That was a weird thought. His new best friend was a god. Well, technically she was a dragon, but whatever. The disbelief still stood.

He breathed out a soft sigh and hung his head, smiling at every little irrational thought that crossed his mind. Most of those thoughts revolved around how nice it was to have this small slice of calm. Talking about Kronos hadn't been a very pleasant experience.

It never was.

_This is nice, though. _Percy allowed his eyes to close. He reached across his chest and patted her hand a couple of times, hoping that she'd get the message.

Despite being ancient, she most certainly did not get what he wanted to convey. Actually, that might have been the reason his tactful delivery was so ineffective.

They stayed like that for a few seconds longer. His thoughts slowed and slowed...

Until...

Until all he felt was the ebb and flow of water within her body. Unlike the gods in his timeline, she had blood running through her veins. Real blood.

Blood just like his.

And she had water in her muscles and her bones.

And he could touch that water—if he only reached out further into her.

But he didn't reach. There was no need. Friends didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pulling away. Percy only realized he'd been cupping her hand when she slipped out from under his fingers.

"You should rest... I'll stay to make sure nobody gets any funny ideas while you're sleeping."

"What happened to letting me fight my own battles?" he asked, glancing behind him to see her walking toward his bedroom.

She stopped just shy of the hallway. Her eyes darted to him, but she didn't turn. "I'm sorry. It was cruel of me to have given you that kind of impression. I won't fight your battles for you, and I won't ask you to fight mine for me. But partners help each other, don't they? You've upheld your end of our agreement. Let me uphold mine."

Percy watched as she disappeared behind the wall. He blinked a few times.

Sleep did sound nice.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Hades found Nyx at the edge of the Abyss, where he had expected to find her. The River Lethe snaked through the endless ocean of everything in the grand beyond.

A new pool had been formed just before the cliff. What once had been a typical plot of Netherworld soil was now filled with water from the Lethe. Clods of dirt littered what was left of the natural clearing.

"What a mess this became," he said from his place beside Nyx.

"You sent him to me," she accused, not even looking at him with the corner of her eye. "Why?"

Oh, how many answers he could have given her. Hades knew most of those answers would only bring her ire. He refrained from saying anything too inflammatory.

"Curiosity, I suppose." His arms stretched wide to envelop the infinite red and orange in front of him. "Perhaps the same reason you chose to summon Thanatos for him. Was I wrong to indulge him? I was expecting him to die just as much as you were. When was the last time a human demigod killed a god?"

"Killed?" Nyx scoffed. "It's been quite a while."

"Exactly. I never expected the boy to up and kill a god. And could you blame me? I would hardly think so."

All true. That the boy had managed to kill Thanatos—_horrifying. _Mortals with that level of competency came perhaps only once every generation. It went beyond strength. It went beyond intelligence. It went beyond charisma. A mortal with the right combination of all the necessary ingredients was rare. They were horrifying, too.

"Why did you come, Hades? Stop wasting my time with talk."

"How else would you waste your time, then?"

"Hades…"

He chuckled. "Would you seek revenge? Revenge for your murdered child?"

Nyx crossed her arms. "The weight of Thanatos' mistakes are not for me to bear. He chose to meet the boy. Nobody forced him to die."

"The boy killed him," Hades said. He made his way to the pool of the Lethe. "Percy Jackson. Or so somebody might want us to believe. Did you know…? Up until two weeks ago… this boy did not have a soul. Oh, he appears in human records—specifically those of the United States of America—but according to the Netherworld's own registry, his soul is almost the same as a newborn's. At the same time, it is old and ready to be reaped, almost like an overly ripened fruit. Strange, yes? I think it's strange. Don't you think so? Who is he? Where did he come from? What does he want?"

"None of those questions matter." Her eyes stared down at the pool. "It doesn't surprise me that the Netherworld gives you such information. He is an anomaly. A creature not born of this place. He is from a different reality. His motives are alien because _he_ is alien." She finally turned to look at him. "His soul is new here, but old elsewhere. He is human; foolish, narrow-minded, and utterly unable to see beyond his own petty whims, he most certainly is human."

"Another reality…? I suppose that explains a few things." Hades gazed into the red and orange. Beyond the endless edge of creation was the Abyss. Beyond the Abyss was the infinite reality of nothing. Percy Jackson had come from that place. "How annoying. Someone will have to educate him about the rules we have. Tiamat seems to be encouraging him, if nothing else."

"Chaos Karma Dragon indeed."

"A dragon is all she remains."

"Be careful, Hades. Your power only serves to heighten your hubris."

"As Thanatos' did to him, and yours did to you." Hades craned his head back toward his temple. "So, you really don't care about revenge?"

Nyx narrowed her eyes. "The boy did you a favor, don't try to pretend otherwise. You don't care that Thanatos is dead. You'll snatch power soon enough."

He nodded brazenly. Of course, she was entirely correct. Thanatos had been a steadfast opponent when it came to his control over the Netherworld. A diligent agent to be sure, but a frustratingly unerring political opponent in just about every way possible.

Now there was only Orcus to contend with. The grim reapers who supported Thanatos would choose a new alignment, as none were powerful enough to rise on their own to take his place. Overall, Thanatos' disposal was a somewhat pleasant surprise. Hades expected most of the grim reapers from Thanatos' group to join him rather than Orcus.

Conversely, Thanatos' death made the Netherworld look weak. If word spread that a human killed the strongest grim reaper…

Hades had to secure control quickly. Others would try to take advantage of his realm soon—like those damned devils. Once the realm was stable, he could look to use his lieutenant's murder to his advantage on the grander stage.

"To answer your question: I don't seek vengeance." Nyx pulled the hood of her cloak down to cover more of her face. "There's nothing down the path for me."

"I see. And justice?"

She sighed. "Leave, Hades. I've grown tired of hearing you speak."

"He is too dangerous. What if he chooses to take yet another radical action? I can perform some measure of damage mitigation. Others cannot. This world must be preserved."

"And you would be its protector?" she scoffed.

Hades put a hand to his chest. "The Netherworld chose me to be its governor. I have upheld the integrity of death for thousands of years." He looked above. "Am I the best choice? Hardly. However, I am willing to do what needs to be done. This… This Percy Jackson has shown me that I have grown too complacent. All the gods have. Evil encroaches upon us with every passing day, and we—the bulwarks—have failed to contain it. We should be ashamed of ourselves."

Nyx turned her head toward him. "Do you have a plan to stop this so-called evil?"

"Not yet." Hades turned around. "I first need to secure the Netherworld. My next course of action will depend on the situation at that point. There is still too much I don't know about the boy, and we have no way of knowing what his pet Dragon King will do in response to aggression. In some ways, she may be the first target."

"And what, exactly, do you think _his _reaction would be? He'll hunt you down," Nyx said with a certain level of disinterest.

"Yes. Maybe that would be for the best. I'll have every advantage in that case, right?"

"Theoretically."

"Then all I have to do is apply the theory." Hades glanced back into the red and orange. He felt his confidence grow, and he felt his resolve strengthen. This was the only way. "When the time comes, you'll regret not joining me. This is a just cause."

"You sent him to me," Nyx said coldly. "I have every right to turn you away. All of us involved made mistakes, and I refuse to be taken along while you seem intent on manipulating me. I might join you later. _Not now_."

Hades dipped his head mockingly. "As you say. I hope you can see past my mistakes, then, because the reality of the situation is becoming starkly clear to me. We must act sooner rather than later if we are to preserve this world. I'll do it myself if I must."

* * *

**Author Note: Thanks for reading. **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I'm not scared of ghosts. I'm scared of _evil _ghosts.

_-Quote attributed to Percy Jackson_

* * *

Percy felt Tiamat arrive before he saw her.

He pulled his head out from the pantry and craned it to look into the living room.

There she stood, hands on her waist, thoughtful frown in place. The magical circle she'd traveled through blinked out of existence a moment later.

She kept pondering for a few more seconds, then shook her head and turned. She spotted him watching, took note of him being in the kitchen, and licked her lips. "Dinner time already? Good thing. I'm more than ready for some food."

"Good to see you, too," he muttered. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "What are you doing back already? I thought you'd be in the Underworld for a couple of days, at least."

Tiamat shrugged. "So did I. Ajuka is a very busy person." She made her way to the kitchen. "Luckily, I caught him at a good time today."

It had already been a few days since the confrontation with Thanatos in the Netherworld and their subsequently simple return home. As she'd promised, Tiamat had checked Ingvild more thoroughly, leading her to admit her own ineptitude in light of the situation.

With that in mind, she had recommended Ajuka Beelzebub for the job in her stead.

At the time, Percy had been skeptical about getting a Devil King involved, despite wanting to help Ingvild. He didn't think it was a good idea to let other people know she even existed. Not when she was in such a sorry state.

However, after some cajoling, Tiamat convinced him to go along with her plan.

Of course, Percy had only accepted with the addition of a few key conditions. Mainly, he didn't want Ingvild's name or status outed. The less information, the better, he thought.

When Tiamat had left for the Underworld earlier in the day, he'd been hoping that she would bring back good news. Something like _'Just give her a spoonful of fish oil, she'll be fine' _or any other dumb home remedy he always saw online.

"What's the news, then?" he asked.

"Nothing good." Tiamat sighed regretfully. She leaned over the island, arms folded against the granite. "Ajuka is something of a magical genius; he has a mind filled with looping calculations and extensive formulas that nobody else could ever manage to remember. Moreover, he's already done a limited amount of research into this illness for political reasons. Unfortunately, he knows no way of curing it, nor does he know why it takes hold of a subject in the first place."

"He couldn't tell you anything?"

"Considering how much he had to work with, I feel like this was to be expected."

Percy grunted in frustration and went back to rummaging through his pantry. "You think we should have told him more about Ingvild?"

"How are mysteries solved in the first place? We need evidence, theories, tests, observations. All we have right now are rumors."

"What kind of rumors?"

"Oh, the usual," Tiamat said blandly. She dismissively wiggled her hand in front of her nose. "Conspiracies about the origins of the disease and what have you. Very typical stuff; apparently, some of the older devils believe it was a deliberate action by Yahweh against their species. Ajuka doesn't think that's the case, though, and I trust his word more than the ramblings of paranoid sycophants."

Percy twisted his mouth a few times, thinking about what she'd said.

Was the illness some kind of curse cast on the devils by God? He wouldn't put it past the guy. Hadn't God sent some nasty stuff to Egypt at some point? And then there was the whole flood thing. Not to mention those cities he'd burned.

Very typical of a god.

"Nothing we can do then, huh?" he muttered. "You don't have anything in your big stash of magic-y stuff that would work?"

"_Magic-y stuff_?"

"You know what I mean."

"If I had something among all my _'magic-y stuff' _that I thought would work, I'd already have recommended it," she replied. A frown crossed her face. "Though, now that I think about it, Ajuka did say he had never heard of a person recovering from the illness only to fall victim again shortly afterward. First of all, recovery is uncommon and seemingly random, never coming about as a result of specific treatment."

"She's the first?" Percy asked.

"As far as everybody else is concerned, there is no first. However, to us, yes. The first and only." Tiamat narrowed her eyes and looked down at the countertop. "The first and only…"

Percy quickly fished a few things from out of the pantry. "What's up? You look like you just had an epiphany. Or… you look like you _want_ to have an epiphany, but can't. It's kinda hard to tell."

Tiamat tried—and failed—to hide her mouth curling into a smile. She shook her head and glanced up at him with a chuckle. "The second one, for sure. I just wonder why her. Ingvild Leviathan is the only devil to re-succumb to this illness after recovering. I'm not sure why that is. I should have mentioned at least that much to Ajuka."

"You think she's a special case?"

"It's not that I think," Tiamat said. "She _is_ special. I'm sure there's something we aren't seeing. If I had told Ajuka everything we knew about her, he might have been able to grasp the situation better than I can."

"It also might have gotten Ingvild in a heap of trouble," Percy reminded.

"I'm aware." She drummed her fingers along the counter. The corners of her mouth tightened.

"Maybe it's because she's part human?" he suggested. It probably wasn't his place to suggest _anything_, considering how little he knew about this stuff, but he wasn't going to let technicalities like that stop him. "Or because she's a descendant of the first Leviathan."

Tiamat frowned. "Perhaps you're right. Her humanity is something we can't discount, nor is her heritage. I suppose we'll also have to assume her Sacred Gear could be part of the equation somehow. She really is a unique case. So many variables, so little we actually know." Her nose wrinkled. "And even if we knew the cause, I'm not sure we would be able to treat her. She might be doomed to repeat a cycle of sleeping for long periods with short waking moments in between."

_A cycle, huh?_ Percy was familiar with cycles.

He was especially familiar with the bad kind of cycles.

Was there anything they could do, he wondered. Was there anything _he _could do? Percy wasn't so sure. He didn't have the know-how to really contribute any kind of big, groundbreaking revelation. He'd only been halfway through his first year of college when Kronos decided to attack New York, and he never planned on becoming a doctor or anything as fancy.

This was beyond him.

Tiamat made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat. "Needless to say, whether this illness is natural or artificial, neither of us has the power to cure the girl. Perhaps she'll wake up on her own again?"

Percy sighed quietly. "I can't exactly afford to protect her for a century. I'm not immortal, you know."

"And even if you were," Tiamat said, eyebrow raised, "would you want to keep watch over a comatose girl for one hundred years? A girl you just met?"

That, Percy thought, was an unfair question. They both knew the answer to it.

There was only so much he could realistically do. He was one guy living in the middle of a massive city, already constantly looking over his shoulder, always on the lookout for the next monster, god, or whatever else was wanting to kill him.

She was better off awake and able to defend herself. Even if it meant making enemies along the way, as long as she learned how to fight…

The more he thought about it, the more Percy realized there was no easy solution to this kind of problem.

"Either way, I don't think you should feel any obligation or responsibility here." Tiamat gave him a meaningful look. "You've done more than most would, knowing that her presence might put you in danger."

"I'm not worried about that. I can handle a few devils." He frowned at the small bottle of paprika in his hand. "I guess… I don't know what to do. It's weird. I'm used to being able to _do_ something whenever I have a problem, but I can't do _anything_ in this case."

Tiamat instantly caught on to what he meant. "It's frustrating, I know. You feel like you don't have control—like everything is moving at speeds you can't even fathom."

She must have been talking from experience. Given how old she was, it wouldn't surprise him if she had felt the same way at some point.

Maybe she still felt it.

He had his own experiences to remember, too. There were plenty of times when he'd felt completely out of his depth.

The reveal of being a demigod came to mind.

"I suppose we'll have to consider other options. If the girl means that much to you…"

"Am I wrong for wanting to help?"

"That's a question I can't answer for you. I'll follow your lead for now. I chose to take her as my pupil, which means her safety is also in my interest. We're on the same page in that regard."

"That's funny, coming from a person who just told me I have no obligation to help her."

"I only want you to understand that I'm on _your _side. If I had to choose between you and her, I would choose _you_. As if it weren't obvious enough, right?"

He didn't think it was obvious at all. "Good thing I'm not making you choose."

What good was he if he couldn't help a single lonely girl? What kind of person would he have to be to abandon her for the sake of convenience?

"_How much do you hate me, Jackson? What would you do to kill me? I ache to know." _

Once, he thought he would have done just about anything to finally kill Kronos.

Knowing what he knew now, he didn't think that was true. The security of hindsight might have been skewing his opinion.

Reading his dour mood, Tiamat skirted the corner of the island and slid beside him.

She bumped him with her hip lightly. "Give me some space. I'll help with dinner."

He blinked. "You can cook?"

"Is that surprising?" Tiamat asked, confused. "I'm not sure what you think of me, but just because I'm a dragon doesn't mean I only eat raw meat. Fine cuisine is my specialty."

"Uh…"

She gave a smug smile and began to push up the sleeves of her blouse. "In fact, you go take a seat. Let me show you the work of a master in the culinary field."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

The following days passed without any significant incidents.

Even so, dread seemed to cling to the city. Most of the week had been defined by cold wind and freezing rain.

Today would be the exception. After six long days of miserable winter weather, the sun finally came out to bring some warmth into New York.

_Unfortunately, it overcompensated_, Percy thought as he stepped out of the grocery store. He folded the receipt and started toward his apartment, the sun blazing against his back.

It was an oddly hot day for February. Even though he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt, it felt like he was being smothered by a wool blanket.

Also odd was the distinct staleness lingering in the air.

Something was wrong. Even as people passed him on the sidewalk and as cars trundled along the streets, the city waited on a razor's edge.

Noises seemed dull. The sunlight, which should have tinted everything in his vision a shade warmer, actually only leached color from the world.

Needless to say, he was not a fan of this wrongness.

Percy crossed the street, making his way into the shade of a line of scaffolding. It was cooler there, but not by much, and the overhead shield did nothing for the ambient taste of stale air.

A paranoid part of his mind told him that this was something he couldn't brush off.

It had been just over a week since the incident down in the Netherworld. Some would say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but not everybody was willing to wait for too long. With that in mind, Percy didn't know if Nyx or Hades were plotting against him while he relaxed. He wouldn't put it past either of them.

Turning onto W. 48th Street, Percy walked by a few theaters and restaurants, stone facades all until he reached Broadway, practically the start of Times Square.

Somewhere in the distance, thundered rumbled. His head snapped in the general direction of the noise, and people around him also glanced up to the sky in confusion.

The sun continued to pound down on New York.

Percy narrowed his eyes.

He waited for a few seconds more, straining his ears to hear above the city's usual din.

Nothing.

Suspicious, but unwilling to stay out in the fierce heat, Percy started walking again.

Not long later, he entered through the front doors of his apartment building.

The heat followed him inside. Despite the air conditioner running in the background, Percy chose to take the elevator rather than the stairs.

The metal doors slid shut behind him with a soft hum.

Even the elevator made him feel like he would never have been able to afford to live in this place, if not for Michael. Everything around him screamed debt, from the lobby to the hallways, and of course, his own apartment too.

It made his stomach turn.

Still, he wouldn't lie and say that he'd never imagine living in a place like this before. More than imagined—he had wished for it.

Some wishes came true, he supposed, even if in the worst ways possible.

He hurried out as soon as the elevator opened to his floor.

Once in the hallway, it was a straight path to his home, which was sandwiched between two other apartments. That meant he could readily see the person standing just before his front door.

It was someone he recognized but hadn't been expecting.

The angel turned to him as he approached. She smiled widely and waved him down with an exaggerated swing of her arm. "Percy, what good timing! I was just wondering how to track you down, but it looks like that won't be necessary at all!"

He would have raised his hand to greet her if not for the bags of groceries he carried. "It's good to see you again, Gabriel."

And he honestly did mean that. Gabriel and Michael were two people he trusted almost implicitly.

Without them, what would have become of him in this timeline? They'd only ever acted in his best interest. Percy probably should have been suspicious at the amount of generosity they showed him, but he couldn't bring himself to doubt their sincerity.

"I feel the same way." She held out one of her hands. "Do you need help with those bags?"

"Thanks, but no," he said, setting the bags against the wall. He stretched out his fingers and tried his best to act nonchalant. Ingvild was still comatose, after all. "So… what are you doing here anyway? Taking a break from Heaven?"

"In a fashion, that may be true," she said with a sheepish giggle. "There have been some strange goings-on recently. Michael asked me to speak with some of our exorcists in the city to reassure them. Oh, and to boost their morale, too. A very nice side-effect of being a seraph, I suppose!"

"I suppose."

"Yeah!" She rubbed the back of her head. "While I was in the city, I thought _'Hey, I should go check up on Percy! I wonder how he's doing? Hopefully, he's making friends.' _Stuff like that, you know? Guess it was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, really. It's not like Michael needs me back in Heaven urgently, either."

Percy blinked. "Well, I appreciate that you thought of me."

She seemed glad to hear as much coming from him. "In fact, I might be able to do more good down here than behind the walls of Zebel."

"What makes you say that?"

"I mean, if I was still up in Heaven, how else would I warn you about all this craziness." She mimicked an explosion with her hands. "_Bwaah~_. The boundary between life and death is becoming way too flexible. Dangerous people can take advantage of it. They've done so in the past. Necromancers, vampires, trick-or-treaters, cannibals—"

"Cannibals? Trick-or-treaters?"

"They're crafty."

"I'll take your word for it," Percy said uncertainly. "So the situation is that serious? Is there some kind of cannibal invasion?"

"Thankfully, we aren't so far along to call it 'serious' or a 'crisis.' Not yet. Souls are still being taken to their proper places. If the grim reapers stopped doing their job, _then_ we would be in 'serious' trouble. Hades seems to understand the severity of the situation, and his specialists are working around the clock to guide souls away from Earth."

Hearing that made Percy frown. Confused, he tried to piece the puzzle together in his mind. "You're telling me… Hades is actually helping? As in, he's not the one causing the problem?"

Knowing it was the "boundary between life and death" acting up, Percy's gut instinct had been to suspect Hades.

"That's right!"

"And we're talking about the same Hades, right? Tall skeleton that dresses like the pope, with glowing eyes and a creepy voice that haunts the dreams of children?"

"That's the one." Gabriel cocked her head to the side. "Wow, that sounds like a really accurate description. Have you met him?"

"Nope."

"Hmm." She rubbed her chin and examined him. "Well, anyway, I just thought you should know about it. Our exorcists have spotted more of the undead than usual around these parts. Not to mention devils."

"Devils?" He did not like the sound of that.

"Not to worry," she assured. "There are always devils in New York. Honestly, the increase in undead is more troublesome. Devils don't cause too many problems for humans nowadays. They're especially careful in places where the Church is highly active—a place like New York, for example!"

"And the undead do cause problems?"

"Of course! They're the real issue here. If they were raised by a necromancer, we have to assume they'll be used for some nefarious purpose. If they raised themselves, that's bad news! The last thing we want to see pop up in Manhattan is a powerful revenant. Or, even worse, an _imperishable_."

Percy didn't like the sound of either option. Still, he figured something called an _imperishable_ might actually be worse than a revenant.

If it warranted being italicized, it was probably bad news.

Honestly, anything undead sounded like trouble to him. None of that in his city, please and thank you.

He shook his head and sighed. "Devils and the undead. Does this have to do with the boundary of death?"

"At least for the undead, yes. With the boundary between life and death thinning, it's common for souls to migrate across planes of existence. This kind of thing happens from time to time. Once or twice a century. We aren't too worried at this stage, but all factions across the world are keeping a close eye on the situation. As for the devils… we have no clue why they're buzzing around!"

"That's reassuring."

Gabriel pouted at his obviously sarcastic response. "Our exorcists are doing their best. I think."

_Very reassuring_, Percy thought morbidly.

"So, you need my help to figure out what's going on," he deduced.

Why else would she have come at such a convenient time? Michael and Gabriel knew he could fight. They'd seen Riptide. He'd told them the bare minimum about himself before leaving Heaven. It made sense they would turn to him, given the situation.

Surprisingly, Gabriel threw her hands out and shook her head. "No, no! We couldn't ask you to get involved. The exorcists already stationed in the city can deal with the mindless undead. If something more dangerous appears, we'll bring in the Church's finest to handle it."

"Oh." Percy frowned. They weren't asking for his help?

Even with that in mind, Percy wasn't sure he could stay clear of this problem. It was his city they were talking about. If something was threatening his city, he couldn't leave it well enough alone.

Kronos had risen again because the gods had spent too long doing absolutely nothing.

In the end, he supposed he couldn't actually talk bad about the Church. If they were already taking action, they probably weren't inept.

Part of him wondered if this was somehow his fault.

The whole ordeal with Thanatos left a bad taste in his mouth. It had been the god's fault, sure, but Percy was sure he'd taken it too far. And with Thanatos being the biggest and baddest grim reaper, maybe death's boundary was tied to him somehow.

It was impossible to know for sure. Percy hadn't seen the undead or any more devils. Not that he knew of. The only weird thing he'd noticed…

"Gabriel."

She tilted her head at him, bright green eyes practically glittering in the softer light of the hallway. "Yes?"

"Does the city seem strange to you?"

"Oh, for sure! Given the time of year and how far north we are on the globe, it's way too hot! How are you not sweating right now?"

Percy raised his eyebrow. She was one to talk, given that she was wearing a long robe that covered her whole body. Being an angel probably made her immune to mortal necessities like staying cool or eating. If not that, she was at least more resistant to things like overheating.

"Lucky genes, I guess," he said.

"I guess that must be it!" she said through a giggle. "Hey, why don't we go inside? Your groceries are going to molder out in this heat. You know the old saying: waste not, want not."

Glancing at his bags, Percy twisted his mouth a little. He had to remember it wasn't his money he'd be wasting if he ended up throwing out all that food. Even knowing that, though, he still didn't think it was a good idea to invite Gabriel into his home.

Not while Ingvild was there, at least.

"My place is…" A hundred excuses flashed through his mind. He wanted to settle on the most believable, but the first thing that came out of his mouth was: "There are rats. Rat-people."

Mentally, he reminded himself to never speak to Gabriel ever again. He was apparently bad at lying to people like Gabriel, those types who were endearingly saccharine. For a grown woman, she managed to pull off the cutesy act perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that he'd started to doubt it was an act at all.

The only reason he'd brought up rat-people was that Tiamat had mentioned them a few days ago. It had been a passing story over dinner that managed to stick in the back of his mind all this time.

"Rat-people?" She looked at his front door, then at him. She did it again. "We should probably do something about them. Last time the rat-people got a foothold on Earth, they reverse-engineered nuclear weapons."

"I don't even wanna know how that happened," Percy said, feeling a little out of his depth.

"I was just kidding!" Gabriel laughed at her own joke. "The look on your face was priceless. Rat-people don't exist, Percy." She raised a finger in his direction. "That's how I know you're lying to me! So rude! I see you haven't changed much since we first met. Lying is no good, you know?"

Percy frowned. He specifically remembered Tiamat mentioning rat-people. Maybe he'd misheard?

"Rat-people don't exist?"

"Of course not," Gabriel said. "No such thing. Not at all." She coughed into her hand. "And even if they did exist, there's no way they would have harnessed any kind of vile magic to create megaton bombs. That's crazy talk!"

"That's…" _A little too specific_, he wanted to say. There was no way she wasn't lying to him.

Were angels allowed to lie?

He would have to ask Tiamat later.

"Anyway, lying is no good! Luckily, I _am_ an angel, which means you're free to confess before me at any time," she said, a warm smile replacing her playful frown. "I'm all ears."

Percy shook his head quickly. No time to think about rat-people. "My place is just a little dirty, is all. If I knew you were coming to visit, I would've cleaned up a bit more."

Gabriel crossed her arms. "Are you sure it has nothing to do with the devil inside your home?"

_What?_

Guarded, he took a single step toward his door. His fingers twitched, but he chose not to reach for his sword. Gabriel hadn't so much as looked at him with anything but patient expectation, no doubt waiting for his perfectly logical response.

If only he had one.

Choking down on instantly denying Ingvild's presence, Percy tried to relax. He thought about trying to lie his way out of his predicament, but considering how his rat-people deflection had turned out, it seemed like he wouldn't be able to fool her with his wits alone.

In fact, part of him didn't want to even try.

If nothing else, he wanted Gabriel to trust him on some level—_on any_ level, really. Lying too much would hurt the chances of that happening.

That left only one option.

"How did you know?" he finally asked.

"The magic around here is quite subtle, and it does well to hide the presence of anything aside from humans. Normally, I might not have caught on, but you were acting a little suspiciously." She grinned and put her hands on her hips. "I'm a bit smarter than I look, you know? And while the magic is good, it isn't perfect."

"I never said you weren't smart. I was just kinda hoping you wouldn't notice." He eyed her cautiously. "You aren't mad?"

"I'm disappointed that you would lie to me for something so silly," she admitted. "Especially about rat-people. Mad, though? No. Do you want me to be mad at you?"

"Uh, no. I'm glad you're not. I wasn't sure how you'd react considering the whole angel-versus-devil thing."

"You mean the Great War."

"You fought."

"I did," she said. Her gaze subtly flickered to his door. "We killed devils by the millions. They were people fighting a losing battle for the sake of their leaders' ambition. Angels suffered too. Some devils earned a reputation for hunting our kind. The fallen angels, led by Azazel, knew how to bleed us best of all. He and his Cadre had once been part of our family. They used every iota of lingering trust we had in them to seduce or kill us. We grew hard, bitter. Hateful. We were slow to learn that war was poisoning our people. Many of us were blighted. Many fell because of their wrath."

"You didn't."

She gave him an ambiguous shrug. "That luxury is beyond me now. I don't hate the devils or the fallen angels. All I feel is pity. For Azazel and his Cadre, for the dead Satans, for all of our people combined."

"Even for Lucifer? Wasn't he God's biggest enemy?"

"He is dead now. Why would I need to hate him at this point in time? Hatred is a slow, creeping poison. The longer it lingers within you, the more likely you are to die from it."

Percy's face soured. "Some people hold grudges. I didn't know if you did, so I wanted to play it safe."

Gabriel chuckled. It sounded heavier than before. "Fair enough. You can't read minds, after all, so that makes sense. But I'm just a little offended that you thought to suspect me right off the bat. That's so cold of you."

"I know, I know," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry for lying to you."

"Hmm. As an angel, I have no choice but to forgive you."

Percy reached into his pocket and brought out the key to his apartment. He unlocked the door and swung it open for her.

"Make yourself at home."

Gabriel smiled. "Thank you. I think I've reconsidered, though. My presence might not be all too appreciated." She closed the door gently. "Instead, I have another question for you."

Faintly glad, he nodded. His respect for Gabriel had just gone up. "All right."

"Is it as you remember?"

"Is what as I remembered?"

"New York. Earth. Life. Take your pick. I'm all ears."

"No."

None of it was the same. Not from before Kronos. Not from after Kronos.

"No?"

He looked away and gathered his thoughts the best he could.

"The city feels different. I guess the best example would be Hershey's Chocolate World. It used to be right next to M&M's World, at the corner of Broadway and 48th. Now it's on 7th Avenue, and it's frickin' huge." Percy turned around to see Gabriel's bewildered smile. "This timeline is all sorts of wacky. Since when was Hershey's better than M&M's? Where did it all go so wrong?"

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about chocolate. That's great! I'm not a big fan of anything overly sweet, so anybody who can tolerate those things is kind of incredible in my eyes." She looked down at his bags. "Speaking of sweet, have you made any friends?"

"One," he shrugged, playing along to ease the grim atmosphere from before.

"Oh. That's… um… that's good. That's one more than zero. You have to take the small victories along with the big ones." Gabriel pumped her fists. "Can I meet them? Is it the devil?"

Percy thought about Tiamat. She usually stopped by for dinner, sticking around for a few hours before leaving again to do her own business.

"No, my friend isn't around right now. She'll probably be here for dinner if you wanna stay until then."

"Dinner? That's a bit too far off, I'm afraid. Maybe some other time. I'll even bring dessert!"

He cracked a smile. "Sure. Sounds good."

Gabriel blinked. "You have a cute smile."

With the comment coming from so far out in left field, Percy was torn between being embarrassed and being confused.

On the one hand, being complimented by anybody aside from his mom felt weird—especially true if it was a girl complimenting him.

On the other hand, how was he supposed to feel about an _angel_ complimenting him?

Flattered?

Indignant, maybe?

He blushed. "Thanks. Did you need anything else?"

"That's what I should be asking you. Now that you've had time to digest things, what else can we help you with?"

"What else? I'm the one who should be asking how to repay you. You've done enough for me. Way too much, actually."

"No way. Heaven's work is never done! Surely you knew that. We have a saying in Heaven: 'our work is never done.' Do you know what that means?"

"Uh… that your work is never done?"

"Exactly. Ergo, you're free to ask for help whenever you want. Whether we can actually do anything to help is a different story, but don't be afraid to ask regardless."

"I'll keep that in mind," Percy said. "For now, I don't really need anything else. At least, I don't think I do."

"If you think of something, send a prayer to Michael or me. We'll do what we can."

"Don't I need to be Christian to pray?"

"Not at all," Gabriel said happily. "You're free to pray whenever you want. It would be silly for us to restrict you for the sole reason of semantics."

"Right, silly."

"And speaking of silly, I almost forgot that I have something to give you."

Percy raised an eyebrow. Almost apprehensive, he asked, "What is it? I'm not currently accepting cursed sneakers, even if they are a gift."

She tilted her head. "Have you gotten something like that before?"

"Unfortunately."

Gabriel pouted. "Nobody ever gets me gifts."

"Trust me, some things are better left ungifted."

"Ah, right." Gabriel grinned. "Anyway, I wanted to give you a little housewarming present, welcoming you to our universe. It was tough to settle on a gift, though, since I don't know you very well yet." She laughed wryly. "Actually, I spent way too much time trying to pick something perfect… so… I hope you like what I ended up choosing."

Without wasting another second, she revealed a framed painting, pulling it out from behind her. Admittedly, Percy didn't know where she'd managed to stow the thing. It was two feet wide and almost three tall.

Magic, probably.

Gabriel cleared her throat. "This is us."

Looking closer, Percy recognized the scene on display. Three people sat around a small table some distance away from the viewer's perspective, tucked away in an alcove while purple wisteria blossomed around them. Two of the people sitting had long hair and bright halos above their heads. The final person had dark hair and kept a hand rested on the pommel of a sword, which he'd planted tip-down into the ground beside him.

"The garden in Zebel," Percy said softly. He looked up at Gabriel, who smiled shyly. "You painted this?"

"Yes. I know it's not great. Oil painting is a hobby I started only a few years ago." She fidgeted. "What do you think? I'm more comfortable painting landscapes than people. It's hard to portray the nuance in this kind of scene."

"Gabriel… This is awesome."

Percy was far from artistic, and he doubted his own ability to appreciate the fine arts, so he couldn't testify to the quality of Gabriel's painting from a professional standpoint.

That being said, he thought the painting was good enough to be in one of those fancy, big-city museums.

"I'm glad you like it," Gabriel said, sounding relieved and more than a little pleased.

"Thank you," he said. "You really didn't have to do this."

"Well, it's already done," she said. "And it's yours. From me to you, sincerely."

She held the painting out for him, and Percy took it from her grasp. He made sure not to hold it as tightly as he wanted. It was easy to forget his own strength, especially when he was emotional.

Up close, he thought that the distant figures in the painting looked relatively peaceful. None of their faces were detailed, and the depicted version of himself was clearly postured defensively, but the overall tone—for lack of a better word—leaned toward soft serenity.

"You're really gonna make me work to repay you, huh?" Percy asked shakily.

"Never."

"Gabriel, I—I really can't accept this."

"You can."

"But, I shouldn't."

"You need it more than I do."

"I don't deserve this."

"Whether you do or don't hardly matters to me. It's yours."

He bit his lip. There was no way out of this one. He didn't even know why he was arguing. The best he could do now was save some of his pride.

Letting go of a long sigh through clenched teeth, he finally said, "Thanks."

Apparently sensing his admission of defeat, Gabriel nodded. Her eyes darted to his groceries. "I suppose I should be going, then. It was nice seeing you again, Percy."

"For sure. I'm glad you could stop by."

"So am I."

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Percy jolted awake.

Something cold and tight felt like it had coiled itself around his stomach. Sweat made his shirt cling to his skin.

His breath grew less shallow by the second.

It wasn't long before he felt steady enough to sit straight. The sofa didn't so much as squeak when he shifted his weight.

He looked across the living room.

In the far corner, standing by a lone chair, Tiamat paid him no mind. She examined the painting Gabriel had given him, which he'd left leaning by the windows while he figured out where he wanted to hang it.

How long had she been back, he wondered? Usually, she woke him if he was sleeping, sometimes on purpose and sometimes not.

"You're not even gonna say 'hello' to me?" he asked aloud.

Tiamat glanced his way. If he'd startled her, she didn't show it. "We see each other often enough. Why do I need to greet you every time?"

"Because it's polite?" Percy stood up. His knees popped. His spine popped. Heck, everything popped. He was getting old. Did Achilles also feel this way because of his curse? "We're living in a society. There are rules. Laws."

"Coming from you, that both rings hollow and stings me on a deeply personal level," Tiamat said with a wry smile. "Do you remember our first meeting?"

"Point taken."

"Not going to defend yourself?" She smirked. "You've thawed."

"Do I look like a turkey to you?"

"Thanks for that mental image. I'll be sure to treasure it."

He rolled his eyes. Typical Tiamat. "I aim to please."

"Speaking of images." She pointed to the painting. "I didn't realize you appreciated this kind of art. I almost labeled you as a philistine, truth be told. Where did you get this?"

"I didn't buy it if that's what you're asking," Percy said. "A friend gave it to me."

"Friend? Do you have friends?"

_Ouch._

"Just to rub it in your face, I'll point out that I actually have _two_ friends. Maybe three, if I count Michael. And if I'm being generous, I'd even go as far as to say that I have four friends."

Tiamat raised an eyebrow at him. "I didn't realize you'd become so popular. When did that happen?"

"Good question. Must've been when we weren't looking."

"Speak for yourself," Tiamat retorted. "I'm always looking."

"Not always, apparently. I'm popular now. Didn't see that coming, did you?"

"Point taken," she said, echoing him perfectly. "Regardless, your friend has good taste. This is a nice painting."

"I think so too," he said. "Oh, you're one of my friends, in case you were wondering."

"Was there ever any doubt of that?" She put a hand up just as he opened his mouth. "Don't answer that, please. We'll both end up looking like idiots. Instead, we should think about what to do with our comatose devil."

Percy put his hands in his pockets. He already had a good idea of where this was going, along with where it had come from. Putting it off wouldn't do him any good. She had brought up the subject every chance she got over the past week, and he doubted she would stop until they came to an agreement.

This was partly his fault, he knew. It wasn't like he had a good plan on how to deal with a comatose person. That was especially true when said person was being hunted by an exiled government.

"You're really just jumping right into it, huh?"

"I've been sitting on this idea for almost a week now. Sharing it sooner would have only seen it being rejected sooner. Now that the odds of her waking on her own seem lower than ever, I figured it was the right time."

"I'm open to suggestions," he said warily. "But don't try to convince me to leave her to the wolves. I'm not gonna abandon her when she needs and wants my help."

"Yes, yes, we've been through this. You'll shut me down without a second thought. I have something else in mind, though you might not like it initially."

"You drive a hard bargain. Let's hear it."

"Bring her to Ajuka."

Percy looked at her disbelievingly. "Is that supposed to be a _good_ idea, or is it your _only_ idea?"

"What other choice do you have?"

"Didn't he fight against the idea of the old Satan heirs ruling the devils? Why would I leave Ingvild with him? What kind of idiot do you take me for?"

"'_The best idiot in all of New York,'_ I believe you once called yourself. We'll go with that," Tiamat smirked. "And Ajuka indeed has little love for his enemies, but he is not a cruel man, and Ingvild isn't trying to overthrow his government."

"But he doesn't know that for sure. If he thinks she's too dangerous, are you telling me he won't try to kill her?"

"Ingvild is the only known devil to recover from this illness and then succumb once more. The only one in thousands of years. She's valuable to him." She crossed her arms. "Besides, Ajuka isn't the type to kill defenseless children. And if he helps the girl, he would potentially gain a powerful ally who feels indebted to him."

"Sounds like a _swell_ guy."

Tiamat fixed him with a potent scowl. He had definitely struck a nerve. "Don't assume you know him better than I do. He has done me many favors, and he's a good friend. I'll again be putting myself in his debt by asking him to focus more on Ingvild Leviathan, but I guarantee he will agree if only I told him this was important to me. _That's _the kind of person Ajuka is. He is fiercely loyal to his friends."

Percy allowed her to burn holes through him with that glare. He only looked away once she was clearly done speaking. "You're asking me to trust a guy I've never met for myself."

"I'm asking you to trust _me_."

"Look, if it was my own safety, I wouldn't be so against this idea." Percy ran a hand over his face. "But it's not my life on the line. I can't volunteer a comatose girl for this."

"And she can't volunteer herself. By all accounts, you're her primary caretaker now. She trusts you to help her, right? At this point, it's your decision to make. All I can do is urge you to look for a better solution than sitting back and hoping things just work out the way you want them to."

"I just can't believe _this_ is the best plan we've got."

"We have to work to our strengths and around our weaknesses. Believe me, I would rather not ask Ajuka for help either. He's done a lot for me, as much as my pride hurts to admit it, and asking for more favors will only dig my debt-grave even deeper."

"Then why would you do it?" he asked.

She blinked at him.

He waited.

Slowly, her features softened. "Friends help each other, don't they?"

Percy glanced down at the painting. "I thought pride was a big deal for you."

"It is." Tiamat sighed ruefully. She viciously scratched the top of her head until strands of hair stuck up in all directions. "In fact, you've dealt immense damage to my pride today alone. Your cruelty grows stronger still."

"Thanks for noticing."

They shared a quick smile.

"I understand why you're hesitant," Tiamat said. "If I were in your shoes, I know I would feel the same way." She nodded. "But I know that Ajuka Beelzebub is a good person. He'll help if I explain the situation. An answer to the mystery of this illness could lie with her."

Percy didn't know if she was making a good point or not. Still, it was hard to argue when he had no better alternative.

Even worse, he hadn't done anything except wait for nearly a week. He hadn't done anything because he _couldn't_ do anything.

That wasn't the case anymore.

"We really don't have any better options, do we?" Percy asked.

"None that I know of," Tiamat said.

"Then I'll have to trust you on this." He frowned. "But, I want to meet him first."

"You sound like an overprotective father," she noted.

"I want to meet him," he insisted. "You're really hyping this guy up. Of course I'd want to get an idea of who I'm dealing with."

Tiamat held her hands up defensively. "Okay, I'll introduce you. Just… please try to get along with Ajuka. He's only ever done right by me."

"What, you don't trust me to make a great first impression? That stings."

She looked at him blankly. "Your people skills need a lot of work."

That was a low blow, and she knew it. Percy had spent a long—or maybe extremely short—amount of time stuck in Kronos' loop, with only the Titan himself for company. It was a miracle he remembered how to act politely at all.

_Sue me for being a little rusty. _

"I'm not that bad," he argued.

"Remember when we first met? You called me a shark."

"Yeah, but sharks are cool. I was calling you cool."

"While I also think that sharks are cool, the way you phrased it definitely didn't sound like you were trying to compliment me."

He winced at the memory. "Touche. I'll be on my best behavior. Promise."

Tiamat rubbed the side of her head with a pained expression. "Please don't try to reassure me like that. It only fills me with dread for what's to come."

* * *

**Author Note: Thanks for your patience and for the support you continue to show for this work. When I started this project, I never thought a thousand people would care enough about this story to follow it. I do appreciate that so many have stuck around for so long, especially when my updates come rather slowly. **

**Next time, we'll have a friendly encounter between Percy and two of the four Satans. **

**Thanks for reading. **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Loathe me as much as you like. I don't do my job for adoring masses or commendations from on high. Whether they know it or not, humans need me as much as they need water. I have been the one thing standing between them and ruin for dozens of centuries. No other god can do what I do. None of you have the will. You all lack the necessary ability to sacrifice your self-serving ego. I am everything you are not. You should be thanking me for opening your eyes to how pathetic you all are.

_-Quote attributed to Hades; spoken during his trial for gross negligence and dereliction of duty_

* * *

Tiamat knew she wasn't technically following proper procedure by teleporting Percy straight into the heart of Agreas, but she didn't think he had the patience to keep in line with a bureaucracy twenty times his age.

Truth be told, neither did she, despite predating said bureaucracy by thousands of years. For her, though, it was a matter of principle. She wouldn't give pencil-pushers more power than they were entitled. It irked her to no end when a mouth breathing proselyte thought their position as Vice President of the Filing Cabinet somehow gave them the authority to condescend her.

People without power craved power. Such was the product of a cynical mind finally realizing what kind of world they had been born into.

If she ever gave somebody an inch, they would try to take a mile. Acknowledging the weak made them feel strong. And so, she would always hesitate to acknowledge them.

The world had been much simpler a thousand years ago. People knew their lot in life and accepted it, grudgingly or not, and usually that worked for them just fine.

Tiamat stepped out of the neatly prescribed mandala on the floor. All eyes instantly went to her. Typically, teleporting inside of the Administrative Center for the Greater City of Agreas, or any other kind of significant government building in devil-controlled territory, was restricted. Only the most important employees had the luxury.

Important employees and, naturally, Tiamat herself. She respected Ajuka well enough, Sirzechs some less, but she refused to jump through too many hoops for either of them.

Percy trailed behind her, rubbing his temples as he stepped out of the prescribed circle. "What's with this headache?"

It was only then that Tiamat remembered what she hadn't told him. Better late than never, she supposed. "We just passed through a total of four separate magic barriers. The dimensional wall separating the Underworld from Earth itself, which we have already gone through in the past, the barrier surrounding all of Agreas itself, and two barriers created specifically for this building."

"Is that right?" He squinted. "Why's everyone giving us the stink-eye?"

She snorted. It wasn't surprising he'd noticed it as well. A dozen devils occupied the large reception area, and not a single one had bothered hiding their disdain. Percy would be easily recognized as a human by even the least perceptive devil alive. "They might not appreciate me flaunting their rules. Visitors aren't allowed the privilege of teleporting anywhere on the premises. But since you're with me, they can't say much about it."

A smirk stretched her mouth as she swept her gaze around the room. Guards stood in each corner, and one of Ajuka's personal assistants sat behind the desk adjacent to a set of silver inlaid doors. Several notably dressed devils lounged on beautiful upholstery in two separate alcoves, sipping drinks quietly.

Each and every one averted their eyes when she looked in their direction.

She sniffed and led Percy to the desk.

The administrative center had a few dozen floors to it, and they had already arrived on the upper half, Tiamat having bypassed the ground level reception lobby for the sake of her sanity. To reach Ajuka's office, they would need to take the elevator even further up. If there was a way to teleport directly there, Tiamat didn't know it. The restrictions on magic on the highest floors were absolute. Ajuka had nullified every branch of magic within his ability—which was to say, every branch which existed, no matter how esoteric.

Such a thing was no small feat. In fact, it was probably something only Ajuka could do.

"Hello," the assistant gave her a professionally shallow smile. "Name?"

She had become accustomed to the routine. The assistant already knew her name, but appearances needed to be upheld.

"Tiamat."

The devil nodded. He motioned to the doors beside him, and they opened to reveal an elevator. "Lord Beelzebub is ready for you. Please remember that by choosing to visit the upper floors, you are voluntarily forfeiting your ability to use magic."

"I'm aware," she replied dryly. It would only be her hundredth time hearing this exact same warning.

"And is your… tag-along also aware?" The assistant plainly and willingly refused to address Percy directly.

Percy, rightfully indignant, leaned in, making sure his arm came down across a few papers nearest to the center of the desk. "The tag-along heard."

Tiamat sighed. The guards had started to creep closer to them. "Percy."

The assistant's conflicted expression just about gave way to words, but Percy pulled away before the situation escalated. "Yeah, let's go."

They boarded the elevator. Tiamat selected the highest number available on the button panel, and the doors closed without making a sound while Percy leaned against one slick metal wall.

She noticed that he'd become tense.

"So this city really floats?" he asked suddenly.

Tiamat nodded. "Agreas is officially under the control of the Agares clan, who planned a coup to take the city from Old Satan loyalists during the Devil Civil War. The city boasts the second largest library in devil-controlled territory, along with many institutes dedicated to Old Satan research… whatever that means. And yes, it does float."

"If the city is controlled by Agave, why does Ajuka have the best view in town?"

"When the coup succeeded, and the loyalists became aware of their inevitable loss, they tampered with the spells keeping the city afloat, undoubtedly hoping to deny their enemies such a valuable prize. Ajuka countered their sabotage by creating an entirely new nexus of spells to prevent the city from falling out of the sky. The politics and economics are handled by Archduke _Agares_, but everything related to magical and scientific research is taken care of by Ajuka, seeing how there is no better man for the job."

"Huh."

Tiamat frowned at the disinterested noise, and at his profoundly dour scowl. "What's wrong?"

"Do you… not feel that?" he asked.

"Feel what?"

He looked at the ceiling as the elevator began to crawl to a stop. "There's something up there. Something… gross."

She stared at him. What did he feel that she couldn't? What could be worrying him to the same extent as Thanatos and she, herself, once had?

The elevator came to a seamless halt. When the doors slid open, they did so to reveal a final vestibule before Ajuka's office.

Sparsely decorated, the room offered a grand view from ceiling-tall windows, displaying the entirety of Agreas from its highest point. The spectrum of magenta that colored the sky reminded her of an Earthly twilight.

It was always like this in the Underworld, though. Here, there was nothing inherently unusual about seeing a purple sky.

Across the vestibule, the door to Ajuka's office swung open.

Sirzechs Lucifer stepped out.

Tiamat spared Percy a glance. Was this the _"something gross" _he'd felt on their way up? If so, she would be impressed. Sirzechs made it a point to keep his unnatural aura hidden from most everybody. He was freakish and aberrant in ways similar to Ajuka.

"What a surprise," Sirzechs said, raising his hand to greet them even as he advanced. "It's been a while, Tiamat."

"So it has." They met halfway into the vestibule. "How are you, Lucifer?"

"Well enough, I suppose. A few more vacation days certainly wouldn't hurt. I keep telling Grayfia it would be good for me to get out and do something other than work, but she doesn't seem too thrilled about that idea."

"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown, eh?"

He chuckled. "Quite so. There's always something for me to manage, it seems. I'm glad for all the people around me who are willing to help so much. Without them, my life would be even more difficult." Sirzechs cleared his throat and looked at Percy, smiling apologetically. "Excuse me for being so rude. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Right." Percy seemed less than moved by Sirzechs' rehearsed apology.

Sirzechs waited for a few seconds. "Yes, well… I'm Sirzechs Lucifer. It's nice to meet you…"

"Percy."

"Nice to meet you, Percy." The Satan looked them over. That he was wearing common clothes made Tiamat realize he hadn't been expecting to meet anybody in a formal setting. "What brings the two of you here?"

"We have business with Ajuka," she replied.

"I assumed as much, given where we are," he said pleasantly. "By the way, how was that last Rating Game between Roygun and Rudiger? I wasn't able to attend, and I haven't had the time to watch it on pay-per-view."

"It was entertaining enough. Belphegor again proved the dominance of her family's ability, despite Rosenkreutz's ingenuity. Even so, I still have my misgivings about Belphegor."

"But things went smoothly? You didn't have to intervene?"

"Thankfully."

"That's good. And the Forest of Familiars? I haven't sent anybody to follow up since we last spoke about it."

"Filling up nicely. The attacks have slowed, but haven't stopped completely. I'll have to go hunting again for any remaining undesirables."

Sirzechs nodded. "It sounds like you have everything handled. Thank you for all your hard work. Now, I've kept you from your meeting for long enough. Pardon me."

They parted ways. Tiamat was almost to the door which led into Ajuka's office when Sirzechs suddenly called out.

"Young man."

She and Percy stopped and turned around in unison. Sirzechs was already at the mouth of the elevator, watching them curiously.

Percy tucked both hands into his pockets. The movement was deliberate and cautious, but still unhurried and steeped in his recognizable confidence. "What?"

"Have we met before?" Sirzechs asked.

"Uh, no? I would remember meeting something like you."

"Oh? What makes you say that?"

Percy stared at him for a few seconds. Slowly, he raised his hand and pointed at his own hair. "I've never met somebody with that color. You'll have to tell me what kind of dye you use; it gets the job done."

Sirzechs tugged at a few strands of his dark red hair. "I'm afraid mine is a bit dull compared to my sister and father. A shame, to be sure. Then again, I like to count my blessings where I can."

"It suits you."

"Thank you." Sirzechs smiled kindly. "Percy, was it?"

"Yeah."

"Have you ever considered becoming a devil?"

Tiamat's eyes widened. Was this really about to happen right in front of her? So suddenly? What could possibly have been running through Lucifer's mind to offer one of the few remaining positions in his peerage to Percy?

"I've never thought about being anything other than what I already am. Got turned into a guinea pig once. Had fur in all sorts of places."

"Well, becoming a devil is much better than turning into a rodent, I assure you. There are many benefits, especially in the peerage of a Satan. And it just so happens I have space."

"I appreciate that, but I'll have to pass for now. The guinea pig experience really taught me the value of being human." Percy smiled lightly. "And I don't think I'd look good with horns and hooves."

Chuckling, Sirzechs summoned a business card to his hand. He walked back to Percy and held it out. "If you make your peace with that bit of unpleasant history, feel free to contact me. I guarantee no horns or hooves. Not even a pointy tail. You do get wings, though, which are retractable. Nobody has to know."

Percy looked at the offered card. He hesitated. When it was clear that Sirzechs would wait for a clear answer, he took it and hid it in his back pocket. "I'll think about it."

"Please do. I won't keep you any longer, so if you have questions about the fabulous wealth, vast influence, or immense strength you stand to gain, don't hesitate to reach out. The world is your oyster, Percy. You just need to know how to crack it open."

"I'll keep that pearl of wisdom in mind."

The devil smiled once more, then took the elevator down.

Percy turned around and breathed a sigh to deflate himself.

Tiamat raised an eyebrow when he passed her Sirzechs' business card. "A grave insult."

"I wouldn't sell my socks to the Devil, let alone my soul. Keep it safe for me?"

"Fine," she rolled her eyes, plucking the card from between his fingers. She waved it at him pointedly. "You promised to behave."

"I promised to be on my best behavior when we met Ajuka. Nobody told me anything about having to meet the big-bad Lucifer himself." He jabbed his thumb at the elevator, "Speaking of, what's his deal? He's not actually a devil, is he?"

A good question. Once, Ajuka had confided in her that he often didn't feel like he could be called a devil.

"Sirzechs does a good job of hiding it, but it's true he's far from a normal devil. In fact, he's far from a normal _anything_," she muttered. "You noticed, which drew his attention, which I would say isn't an easy feat."

Of course, she didn't think it was entirely that simple, either. Sirzechs had probably deduced Percy's worth rather quickly. The current Devil Kings were all very good at choosing their allies, and their subordinates.

"If you want to live," Tiamat said, "don't make Lucifer your enemy." She grabbed his arm. "Trust me. He isn't someone to cross."

Their eyes met. He blinked, then glanced away, chagrined. "I won't. Probably."

"The same goes for Ajuka. He's much the same as Sirzechs in some ways. Well, they are close friends, so I suppose it wouldn't be hard to believe as much."

"We'll be fine," he said. "I guess I'm just worried about these guys turning people into devils. Is that actually a thing?"

"If humans can be made into gods, like in the past, why not devils?" She pulled away from him. "Ajuka created a system that simplified the procedure into something quick and painless. He calls them 'Evil Pieces', though why he chose such a forbidding name is beyond me. It's thanks to Ajuka that the devils managed to recover so much after the wars."

Percy frowned. Rather, his face reverted to its usual tired scowl, which made him look like he was constantly brooding. "Evil Pieces… Is that supposed to be some kind of inside joke about how not all devils are evil or something?"

Tiamat wasn't sure why Ajuka named them the way he did. She had met him far after the fact, and she never bothered asking simply because she didn't care. Evil Pieces, Good Pieces, Neutral Pieces, no title explained their function.

The Evil Pieces were tools for reincarnation. That was all. Their purpose was neither good nor evil, clinically speaking.

"I suppose that's a question you'd have to ask Ajuka yourself."

His eyes narrowed. "Can Evil Pieces make anybody into a devil?"

She shrugged. "Most species can be reincarnated as devils. Certain divine beings cannot be reincarnated. I'm not sure about demigods. You're part human, so I assume it's possible, but I could be wrong."

"What's stopping a devil from turning every human they meet into a devil, then?"

"Only high-ranking devils are given Evil Pieces. Even then, they are allotted only fifteen pieces in total, taken straight from the game of chess. Eight pawns, a handsome sum; two rooks, knights, and bishops; one queen. No sane devil would waste even a single piece for a random human. Typically, only the exceptional are chosen to be reincarnated. Everybody wants strong servants."

"Why would any 'exceptional' person choose to become somebody else's servant?"

"There are countless reasons. All of them personal." She raised an eyebrow at him. "Can't you think of a reason? Some devils can fulfill their promises with ease. Sirzechs Lucifer, for example, truly can make you fabulously wealthy or immensely strong. Also, devils live for an extremely long time. To a human, it might seem like immortality. That said, I believe there is still a prejudice against reincarnated devils by the pure-blooded nobility."

Percy went quiet, perhaps to mull over her question. At the same time, she began to wonder if Sirzechs' offer had been a serious one. The Satan knew next to nothing about Percy. It certainly struck her as odd...

"We shouldn't keep Ajuka waiting," Tiamat mused.

He blinked himself out of his thoughts. "I suppose not."

Tiamat turned and knocked on the door.

"It's open."

Hearing Ajuka call to them, she pushed into his office with Percy in tow. The young Satan sat behind his desk, giving them a cursory glance before turning most of his attention back to his computer monitor.

"This is unusual, isn't it?" Ajuka asked placidly. He sighed and leaned back, rubbing the space between his eyes. "Excuse me if I come across as impudent. My obligations keep multiplying, and I'm struggling to understand why." He looked at them again and smiled. "Feel free to sit. Would you like anything to drink?"

"If you're offering," Percy said, sliding into one of the chairs across from Ajuka, "I'll take some water. The Underworld isn't all fire and brimstone, but I'm still really thirsty."

Tiamat sat down, frowning. "Nothing for me."

Ajuka stood and went to fetch water from a small refrigerator he kept in the back corner of his office. That he had a complete kitchenette in his office told of how many hours on average he spent here.

Apart from that luxury, it was a scarcely filled room. How could anybody work for days on end in such a place? She would have been driven mad after only a few weeks.

When Ajuka returned, it was with a bottle in hand. He set it on the desk.

Percy smiled. "Much appreciated."

Tiamat shook her head slightly. Not the best acting she had ever seen, but not the worst either.

"You're welcome," Ajuka said. He remained standing. "I don't believe we've met."

"I don't think so either. I'm Percy."

"Ajuka Beelzebub."

"Tiamat talks a lot about you." Percy held up his hands in good-natured surrender. "Only good things, I promise."

"I believe she has mentioned you as well," Ajuka replied, adjusting his sleeves flippantly. "Not by name, but she did tell me about an interesting someone who seemingly warranted her attention. You must be that someone. She doesn't have many friends that I'm aware of."

"Considering she doesn't talk about anybody else, it might just be you and me."

"Honestly, you might be very right about that. I'm just glad she found somebody else."

"Yeah, well," Percy rubbed his jaw, "she's a good friend. You and I got lucky; everybody else doesn't know what they're missing."

Tiamat cleared her throat, reminding them that she was still in the room, and that while she did enjoy being praised, they had other matters to discuss.

"She can be kind of prickly, though," Percy added.

"True," Ajuka chuckled. He held his hands up. "But let's get down to business. I assume you're the reason she's been asking about the suspension."

"More or less."

"You aren't a devil, though, so it doesn't necessarily apply to you. A friend affected by the illness, then? Tell me about them."

"Maybe we're getting a little ahead of ourselves," Percy said slowly. "I just wanted to meet you, is all."

Unfettered by Percy's attempt to stall the conversation, Ajuka pressed on. "You're measuring me. You don't trust me. That's fair. But your caution also speaks volumes. Whoever you're trying to protect must be quite important. Why did you come to me? Many hospitals in the Underworld take patients suffering from suspension free of charge. I can recommend a few."

Percy hesitated. "That's…"

"Unless, of course, you feel as though you can't spare a certain type of capital. You came to me through Tiamat's recommendation, I guess. That must mean, in your mind, it's less of a risk to speak with me than medical experts under oath to do no harm to their patients."

"Hey, you said it, man: I'm here off of Tiamat's recommendation. She told me I could trust you. I mean, she already trusts you to the moon and back. It wouldn't be fair if I just ignored her advice, even if some of it makes me scratch my head."

Ajuka bobbed his head sympathetically. "I know how you feel." He took the chance to sit behind his desk once more. "So, what is it that you need from me, specifically? I've already failed to find anything significant about the suspension. My research is on hold until something is added to the wider discussion, or I free up enough time. I'm afraid there simply isn't much I can do."

"And that's the thing," Percy said. "We might have something to add. Not sure if it's actually something that'll help, but from what Tiamat tells me, we might be able to work with it. At least, that's what we're hoping."

"Interesting that you would reach that conclusion. Normally, I would ask you to prove it to me, but you haven't come to me alone."

In fact, Tiamat thought, Percy would never have been able to meet Ajuka without her help. The Satans' time was valuable to more people than just themselves. Without connections, Percy wouldn't have gotten on the waiting list for an appointment, which might have already reached into the next year. And then, even if he did manage to get on the list, notable devils would always be able to find a place above him in the queue.

That was the reality of the current devil-controlled Underworld.

She wasn't sure about the situation on the fallen angel side.

"Without Tiamat, I would've been at a loss for what to do," Percy admitted readily. "I don't know much about anything, so it's nice to have somebody able to point me in the right direction."

"You trust her enough to follow the direction she points?"

"For the most part. Not like I had any better ideas."

Ajuka smiled. "Is that something you should be telling me?"

"I don't see why not. You fought in a war, right?" Percy asked, propping one leg atop the other and finally sinking into his seat more comfortably. "The civil war, I mean. You were one of the leaders."

"Yes, I was."

"You must have made some hard choices."

"A few. On the battlefield, Sirzechs and I couldn't be beaten, and so we never tallied sacrifices as victories. When politics are involved, though, my hands are suddenly tied. It's a delicate balance we've struck."

"I hear you exiled the remnants of the original Satan clans."

"They gave us little choice but to do exactly that. War is war. I regret it, but our hands were tied."

Percy pulled his eyebrows together. "You'll have to explain that one to me. If you're so strong, why go to such extreme lengths?"

"Looking back," Ajuka began slowly, "civil war seemed inevitable. After the Great War, we were a tired, humiliated people. Our leaders were all dead, about half of our oldest clans had been destroyed, and a generation had seemingly been lost for no gain. When the true Satan heirs pushed for more war, one old devil took it upon himself to form a coalition of noble houses in opposition. His decision to act so quickly may well have shaped the Underworld into what it is today. He created the powder keg and then struck the match."

_Zekram Bael_, Tiamat thought. She had met him once, some two hundred years ago, having been curious about the oldest living devil. Many people saw his loyalty as mercurial, but she knew better. Zekram Bael was steadfastly loyal.

But he was only loyal to himself.

"Influenced by his recommendation, our coalition displaced the old Satan families, securing our position in the immediate aftermath." Ajuka steepled his fingers on the table. "But is that really why you came all the way here? If you want the history of our civil war, there are plenty of accounts to be found that wouldn't require rubbing elbows with a Satan."

"Just one more question, if you don't mind," Percy said.

"Go ahead."

"Why did you join the war?"

Ajuka leaned back. "The Satan heirs represented tyranny, much like the original Satans did. I thought devils deserved better than them."

"That's a good reason."

"I hope so. Now, your turn."

Percy gave Tiamat a sidelong look. It was the first time since they had entered that he gave her his attention. She cocked her head at him, signaling his free reign, and he settled further into his chair, becoming a picture of surety despite the reservations he had already shared with her.

"There's somebody I was hoping you could help. A girl who deserves a fair shot at life. I want to help her, but I can't. Not with this disease."

"Admirable. You mentioned that you may have learned something useful."

"Right. Well, she woke up from that disease—was awake for about two weeks—then fell back asleep." Percy gave Ajuka a meaningful look. "I hear that's never happened before."

"It took hold again?" asked Ajuka, frowning. "Recovery is rare enough. Very rare. That's already a reason to be interested. But, as you've heard, there's never been a case of somebody falling victim to suspension after recovering."

"There you go," Percy shrugged. "That's why we're here. We have theories on why she recovered and then relapsed, but since we aren't scientists, we need a second opinion."

Slowly, thoughtfully, Ajuka began to nod. "I understand, and I'm glad you chose to come to me despite the risks you must have perceived. Every lead should be followed to its natural conclusion when we're dealing with something this serious. I'll gladly help."

Tiamat allowed herself a slight smile.

Good enough for her.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Hades stood at the foot of Samael's cross. It was a grand thing in how wildly unassuming it appeared, yet how potent it had remained for thousands of years. That it had managed to hold a creature the likes of Samael... As much could only be called awe-inspiring and difficult to even comprehend.

Yahweh had always had a knack for seals and barriers, even during his more obscure years in Edom, prior to the conquest of ancient Judah and Israel.

While many things could be said about Yahweh, his ability to subvert and subsume all forms of belief was something Hades not only acknowledged as impressive but also felt compelled to praise. Yahweh had been as powerful as he had been cunning. And equally as self-absorbed.

A prime example of that conceit was found right here, in the form of Yahweh's once-great warrior, the scourge of Canaan.

Samael, now known as the Dragon-Eater, had been among Yahweh's most successfully ruinous angels. When their creator had pointed, the angels had swarmed the old Canaanite gods in a flurry, with Samael always at the fore, leading hosts alongside the Four Great Seraphs.

Hades remembered those times well.

When Samael had been cast out of Yahweh's good graces and sealed in the heart of Cocytus, most of the Levant's neighboring pantheons had been relieved, less fearful of possible conquest by the ruthless angel.

_And here you still suffer_, Hades thought, cocking his head. _I wonder if you ever knew the terror you inspired in us. _

Crucified as he was, Samael did not move. Nails driven through his body—from the bottom of his serpent-like lower body all the way to the ends of his fingertips—kept him pressed flush against the wood cross. A nearly invisible length of thread had been run through his mouth to keep it shut, and his eyes were covered by a ragged strip of bloodied linen. The stench of iron seeped into Cocytus from his place at its center, pervading every crack in the ice, every minute breath one could possibly take.

He was a miserable sight compared to what he had once been.

"Lord Hades."

Turning away from the forsaken angel, Hades found Orcus, his most useful lieutenant apart from Thanatos.

In other words, his most useful lieutenant who was still alive.

"Hello, Orcus."

The grim reaper bowed. His face was hidden behind his mask, but Hades was sure he was frowning. The tension in his voice rang clear through the near-silent world they had met in.

Yes, that was good. Let fear bolster their respect; Hades would never wonder about their loyalty. There was a reason the Netherworld's power structure had not changed in thousands of years.

"Do you know why I summoned you here, Orcus?" Hades asked. He gestured at their surroundings.

Cocytus was far from a pleasant place. As far as the eye could see, ice glinted in the gloom of ethereal moonlight. The temperature could snuff out a human's life in a matter of moments, cold as it was. Gods, too, would find it troublesome to acclimate, despite their natural resistance to discomfort from things such as extreme temperatures.

"No, I'm afraid I don't know," Orcus said. His mask trailed up Samael's figure. "However, I assume you wanted privacy to discuss something. Here, it will be just the two of us."

"Exactly so," Hades said. "Needless to say, I expect this conversation to remain between us until I choose to address the rest of the grim reapers."

"I understand."

"Good. Now, I'm sure you, of all people, have noticed the absence of Thanatos from his duties. Indeed, I was also confused at first. When I finally did learn what had happened, I almost couldn't believe it." Hades sighed and shook his head. A frigid breath swept over the icy desert. "Thanatos is dead. Murdered."

Orcus rocked back, shock mildly cheapened by the neutral visage of his mask under the moonlight. "Dead? _Murdered_? But… how?"

The reaction was something Hades had anticipated. Gone were the days of constant battle from the beginnings of human societies, when gods from different regions would often vie for domination against their neighbors. Even as human nations continued to war, gods had become less interested in destroying their fellow gods.

Two thousand years ago, it wouldn't have been so upsetting to learn of a god dying.

But the world was different now.

"A human killed him."

"Impossible," said Orcus. "What human has the strength to defeat Thanatos? My only thought would be Vasco Strada, but what conflict could he have had with Thanatos?"

"No, this was a human I had never heard about before. I am only privy to the information Nyx saw fit to grace me with. It was she, not I, who watched Thanatos die."

This was, of course, a lie. If anything, Hades felt confident that he had more insight into the matter than Nyx did.

"I see. Expecting a primordial god to care for her children could always be seen as foolish, I suppose." Orcus smoothed the sleeves of his robe. "Have you told Pluto?"

"No. I need Pluto—most of the grim reapers, in fact—to focus on the more pressing issue regarding soul-spread between life and death. We can't have too many eyes turned our way right now. Especially not those with whom we share the Underworld."

"Devils. Are they involved?"

"I can't say for certain. Perhaps they are, perhaps they are not. I won't accuse them quite yet."

"Then why did you tell me?"

"I trust you to be more subtle than Pluto in your next task." Hades cocked his head up. "The spirits in New York need pacification. They need a shepherd to guide them away."

"Are they gathering on their own whim?"

"If you find evidence proving the opposite, I leave the solution in your hands. Our duty is to safeguard the Earth. Never forget that."

Orcus took a moment of silence to ponder. His robes billowed as another blast of freezing air ripped across the desert, shearing flakes of ice from the topmost layer of the ground and scattering them across the flatland.

"I'll stay vigilant. Something doesn't feel right about what has recently occurred," Orcus concluded. "Thanatos… I simply can't see him dying to a human, regardless of the circumstances."

Hades feigned curiosity. "I'm sure Nyx knows more than she is telling me."

"Maybe that is the case. I don't have proof, but my intuition tells me we may be caught in something sinister."

"That may be true."

Orcus bowed to him. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave. I have much to consider."

Nodding, Hades turned away. "Be careful. An enemy may be looking to weaken us from the leadership on down. I can't very well lose you to carelessness."

"Of course."

With that, Orcus teleported out of Cocytus. With only the restrained Dragon-Eater for company, Hades allowed his bones to be suffused with gnarled doubt.

Orcus, much like Thanatos, worried about the Netherworld more than the average grim reaper. He had been a good lieutenant for over a thousand years, despite occasional disagreements.

But he would never understand. He was utterly reactionary, and that wasn't what the Netherworld needed. It wasn't what anybody needed right now.

_A shame. _

Hades tucked his chin down. The world continued to spin, yet both he and Samael had been rooted in place for longer than either of them would be able to remember. Reaching out, Hades ghosted a finger across the nail piercing the tip of the Dragon Eater's tail.

Malice built. Samael stirred.

* * *

**Author Note: This chapter definitely could have come out two weeks ago, but I got so caught up in other things the last five hundred words didn't make it to paper till Thursday. Thanks for the patience. **

**You know what's surprising? There's no DxD/Helltaker crossover on this site as of me typing this. I feel like that crossover has the potential for at least a few good short stories. It's not just me, right? Right? **

**Anyway, I'm using the (understandably) criticized and controversial Kenite theory for the origin of God in this story. I assume nobody reading this cares about blasphemy regarding any religion, since it's DxD we're talking about. **

**Next chapter has the intrigue in New York come to a head. **

**Thanks for reading. **


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